


Sing a Song for Me, Nightingale

by maggiewrites



Category: Free!
Genre: AU where Makoto never went to university, Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Angst, Blood, Drug Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Gangs, Human Trafficking, M/M, Makoto being a bamf, Makoto never met Haru, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Sexual Content, Torture, Violence, makoharu - Freeform, reference to mental illness, yakuza!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 69,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2572544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggiewrites/pseuds/maggiewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto is a yakuza boss. Cold, indifferent- some would go as far as evil.</p><p>Well, that is, until he meets someone that will ultimately either destroy Makoto,<br/>or save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken

**Author's Note:**

> really the main reason i wrote this is because _Makoto with his hair slicked back_  
>  can you even imagine it just ugh  
> written for a prompt "villian falls in love" or something i cant really remember

  

Makoto never meant to turn out this way. He never wanted to be labeled a villain, and originally, he never intended to be known as such. Growing up, he was the model citizen, as well as model student. Admired by his peers and neighbors, everyone thought “Wow, that Tachibana boy will go far!”

 

So naturally, no one ever expected him to join the Yakuza straight out of high school.

 

It had been a fluke, really. A slip. Makoto could be in college right now, maybe have a job- but that was not the fate decided for him.

 

At the end of his third year, Makoto was set on going to university. He focused on his grades, and balanced schoolwork with his social life.

 

Makoto was a good kid.

 

Yet, due to his lack of common sense and utter clumsiness, those dreams were swept away faster than a piece of paper caught in the wind, and to think that all he did was unknowingly bump into a yakuza on his way home from school one night, causing the man to spill some sort of liquid that was wrapped in a brown paper bag. It shattered on the pavement, staining the cement a dark brown.

 

He apologized, many times in fact, but that did nothing to sate the yakuza’s blistering rage.

 

He was thrown into a nearby alleyway, and was given a choice; in simplest terms, _live, or die_. Sometimes, on cold, winter nights, Makoto still has nightmares about it; even 5 years later.

 

//

“P-please, don’t hurt me! I’m sorry, so sorry!” He cried, fighting back the ready tears that pricked behind his eyes. He could feel the cold metal of the knife pressed against his throat, and it stung. It wasn’t hard enough to draw blood, but from Makoto’s perspective, his throat might as well be slit already.

 

 The yakuza’s hot, sour breath ghosted across his face, causing him to retch. Makoto was numb, he’d never felt this way before. It was like he lost all his will to move, to _fight_ , and he couldn’t name the emotion that he was experiencing. Fear?

 

 No, fear was when his friend Nagisa would jump out from around the corner and yell _boo!_ at him. It would make Makoto’s heart race, but it would be over in seconds. No, this was not fear, and when the yakuza pulled at Makoto’s belt buckle, he realized what this new feeling was.

 

_Terror. True, utter, raw terror._

 

“You gotta pay me back for that bottle, bitch.” The low rasp of his voice caused Makoto to tremble as he desperately tried to push the man’s rough, calloused hands away from him lower stomach.

 

“N-no! I’ll do anything, please, just _please not this-_ ” his vision was suddenly filled with stars and he felt the right side of his head begin to throb. Bile rose in his throat from the combined effects of fear and that _god awful_ left hook. He thought he might vomit.

 

“Shut up, brat!” The yakuza spit, yet his hand did halt on Makoto. The air was heavy and thick in the alley way, and it made it hard for Makoto to breath. He thought, briefly, “ _Maybe it would be better if he just killed me_.” There was no such luck for him, though.

 

“I could have my way with ya’ right here, ya’ know. I could use you then kill ya’,” Makoto was whimpering-he couldn’t control himself- and kept his gaze focused on his scuffed shoes and ripped pants. He didn’t want to hear what this man had to say. He had never felt this discouraged in his life. Where was the fight in him?

 

Apparently Makoto’s fight had fled him a long time ago, because when the yakuza yanked Makoto’s chin up so that he was staring right into his dark, beady eyes, Makoto didn’t fight. He didn’t even flinch.

 

“We’re pretty shorthanded in this town. I think you’d be a nice… addition.” The yakuza smiled, showing his yellow, slimy teeth. Makoto was suddenly disgusted, not because of his teeth (they were quite awful, though), but because of the thought of becoming something as evil as this man was.

 

“Never!” He growled weakly. There was a _Tch_ and suddenly Makoto was on the ground, gasping for breath. The pain in his gut was evidence the yakuza had given him a swift kick with his knee, and this time, Makoto was _sure_ he’d vomit.

 

“Look, kid, you come with me, or you stay here and bleed out. Your call.” He once again felt the cold, unforgiving steel pressed against Adam’s apple, and knew this was it. He was either going to live and hate himself for it, or die and be missed by his family and friends, becoming some sort of patron saint in the eyes of his town-if he wasn’t considered so already.

 

Either way Makoto looked at it, he couldn’t win. It was over for him. Right before his eyes he could see his dreams crack and crumbled into ash.

 

  
“Fine.” He whispered into the pavement. “I’ll come with you.”

 

//

 

 

They broke him.

 

Over and over again, with no mercy, no pity. They’d tell him it’s just “initiation”, but Makoto knew better. No one in their right mind would do things this vile to an 18 year old boy and call it “ _initiation_ ”. No matter how many times they beat him, burned him, and tried to toughen him up a bit, Makoto wouldn’t change. He couldn’t point a gun at someone (more like he _refused_ to), he wouldn’t swear, he’d talk back to the boss; the list goes on. It went against his nature to be cruel. There was never a time where he had hit someone else. He was kind and compassionate to his family and friends, and often referred to as “soft-hearted”.

 

By the end of the fourth month the group didn’t know what to do. They debated on killing him, “ _It’d be easier_ ,” they’d argue, but the yakuza who had originally recruited Makoto, Atsushi, was set on making this boy a proper yakuza. Something about that Makoto boy made Atsushi’s blood boil, and he wanted- no, yearned to hurt Makoto in any way he could. So he devised a plan. A wicked, evil plan that was sure to make Tachibana-kun finally _snap_.

 

Makoto was allowed to call home, yet was not to tell his whereabouts or who he was with. This proved tricky; his mother was frantic and threatened to call the police multiple times. Makoto somehow convinced her he took a road trip with a friend to Tokyo, planned months before and played it off with _I’m sorry mom I forgot to tell you_ type excuses.

 

 Makoto’s mother knew her son was lying. She was his mother, for goodness sake. Makoto has never lied to her before, and she knew that what he said was not the truth. She also knew that he was in danger; the way his voice shook when he spoke, and how his laughs sounded empty and void of emotion was like an alarm in her mind ringing out the words **help**. She knew if she were to interfere, though, there was a good chance Makoto might be killed. So, as hard as it was for her, she left the matter alone.

 

Everyone could see how much Makoto cared for his family, how when he’d talk to his younger siblings Ren and Ran his face would light up with a glow that was never shown other than when he was on the phone.

 

Atsushi knew how much he cared for his family as well. And that’s exactly what they used to break him.

 

Makoto was in his room- well, more like _closet_ ; they gave him a cot, a small, bulky television and a bathroom all fit into one tiny room at the end of the hall. He was watching the TV, nursing his freshly bruised hands, when a news flash popped up on the screen. Interested, he turned up the volume.

 

The reporter was standing on some steps leading up to a vast array of houses, and Makoto noticed one of the houses was ablaze. Makoto felt a twinge in his stomach. Those steps looked awfully familiar, and so did that house. So where…

 

The reporter was talking now, into the camera. The fire was burning some ways behind him, yet he still looked nervous. It must be pretty bad.

 

“The fire is burning in the residential district, house number….”

 

Makoto’s heart stopped. His house.

 

It was his house his house was on _fire-_

“NO!” He screamed into empty space, rushing forward and grabbing the screen, like he could shake the information out of it. His ears were ringing and he felt sick to his stomach, but he had to keep listening, to know if his family-

 

“It is verified that at the time when the fire started, all four members of the family were inside. It is yet to be confirmed if they have made it out, although all rescue attempts so far have come up with nothing. Furt- “

 

Makoto let out an unholy wail of despair and sent the TV flying into the wall. It fizzed and sparked, yet Makoto couldn’t care less.

 

There was a fire raging inside of him, burning up every emotion besides _anger, hate, spite, pain_. It made his blood boil and _oh_ , they had done it now.

 

They wanted him to hurt people? To be proper yakuza material?

 

_Fine._

 

He threw open the door, alarming several yakuza in the hall. Before they could even start harassing him, Makoto was throwing punches left and right. There were sick _cracks_ of fist connecting with skull as yakuza began to pile in the hallway. There were cries of alarm from the men as they rushed to subdue Makoto, but they couldn’t even come close to touching him without getting punched. He wasn’t even Makoto anymore. He was like a machine, set on _kill_.

 

The people who narrowly escaped Tachibana-kun’s murderous rampage say they saw the fire in his eyes, actual _flames_ lighting up the soft muted green to an electrifying mint color, and they say it was _terrifying_.

 

Atsushi, who had been standing in the lobby of the building, heard it before he saw it. He heard the yells of panic and the angry roars, and knew he had done it. He smiled to himself, felt great pride in what he had done. Atsushi had broken Tachibana-kun. That pitiful kid in the alleyway was now something all of them had hoped to create- a one-man killing machine- and Atsushi could take all the credit; it was his plan, after all.

 

He was more than ready to accept his fate, so when Makoto came barreling down the stairs towards him, he didn’t move. He let Makoto knock him to the ground and punch him over and over until he couldn’t feel his face anymore. Tears dripped off of Makoto’s nose and mixed with the blood that covered Atsushi’s face and flew to the floor. Makoto’s fists carved round depressions in his face, splitting his teeth causing blood to trickle down into Atsushi’s throat; he could taste the hatred, the burning disgust, and he _loved_ it. Each punch seemed to say the same thing:

 

  _You did this, you did this, you did this I hate you-_

 

Makoto continued beating every yakuza in sight until he was –with great struggle- detained and knocked out. By the time he was done, there were 20 injured, and one dead. When Makoto woke up in a different room, he was surprised he had woken up at all. He was sure they would have killed him after a stunt like that.

 

It was only seconds after he had awoken that the pain hit him, and he had to bite the pillow in order to muffle his wails. Makoto hurt all over. His heart ached terribly, yet so did his hands; all he knew is that the pain in his hands was by far the dullest.  

 

Instead of punishing Makoto, the group congratulated him. They viewed him as a rightful member. Makoto had no problems on the shooting range anymore, he set a new record for most sake drank before passing out, and was able to start going out with the regular patrol groups.

 

Makoto didn’t feel anymore. When he’d shoot someone, he felt nothing when he knew, he should feel something. Regret? Guilt? It didn’t matter because it wasn’t there.

 

When he’d take some old ladies son away, due to gambling debt, the woman’s cries did not faze him. Fighting had become a routine procedure and Makoto felt nothing, was numb down to his bones. Even when his hands would be bandaged he couldn’t feel the sting of antiseptic.

 

He had successfully built a nice, solid wall around himself, and blocked out all feeling. He had nothing left to live for, so what even was the point of feeling?

 

He accepted the fact that this was what he was now, a yakuza. A cold, bitter, cruel man; dealt the worst hand in a game of poker.

 

With the years that followed, Tachibana-kun became Tachibana-sama as he rose in rank, eventually becoming boss of the Iwatobi group, the _Bell Orcas_. Of course, there were still higher ups down in Tokyo and such, but Makoto was greatly respected for what he did, and for his personality. Iwatobi slowly progressed from a nice seaside town, to a town controlled by the Orcas. The police were basically yakuza, and Makoto’s group made their money off of the rising drug abusers and alcoholics; not to mention the casino that was built on the shore side.

 

If you asked about Tachibana-sama, you’d get replies such as “ _Oh, he’s super scary! Do not get on his bad side!_ ” or _“He’s cruel! I heard he’d cut off your fingers if your caught stealing food!”_ (which only happened once), but Makoto didn’t mind the things people said. In fact, he liked hearing how cruel he was. For some reason, he thought bringing pain to others would somehow relieve his own, and for a while, that was true. Eventually nothing could dull the aching pain in his chest, and now he lived with it. Burdened forever, he guessed.

 

So, here he was, four years later, sitting alone in his room with a bottle of whisky and an unlit cigar hanging from his mouth. Today he was busy with finances and whatnot, and he was dead tired. But he couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard he tried. There was really no point in trying anyway, because he hadn’t gotten more than 3 hours of sleep in the past three days.

 

Sighing, he took a swig of whisky, completely forgetting about the unlit cigar and soaking it in the fiery liquid, causing it to dribble onto his chin.

 

“Ah, shit.” Makoto coughed, setting the bottle down on the coffee table and wiping his mouth. He flicked the cigar somewhere into the dark room and got up for another. As he walked out of the living room, he passed the hallway mirror.

 

It always amazed Makoto, how much he’d changed. There was a scar on the right side of his head, a little one above the eyebrow, and his hands were littered in cuts and bruises. Underneath his white dress shirt, his back was tattooed-something he had gotten… maybe two years ago? He couldn’t remember. His hair _really_ needed to be cut, and the bags under his eyes could probably be called designer.

 

His self-inspection was interrupted by a quick knock on the door. He sighed yet again, and made his way to the entryway, where he opened the door. His assistant, a big, scary man named Yamazaki Sousuke, stood in the doorway. All though neither of them would be caught dead saying it, they valued each other. One could go as far as calling them “best friends”- if they wanted their head chopped off, that is.  Sousuke flinched under Makoto’s harsh gaze –which Makoto wasn’t even aware that he was making anymore- but quickly straightened up and cleared his throat.

 

“Boss. I have news to talk with you about.” He said, voice a little too loud to be casual, and Makoto nodded.

 

“ _Well,_ ” he thought, “ _Definitely not going to bed now._ ”

 

He walked away from Sousuke and heard the door shut as Sousuke took off his shoes. Makoto walked further into the room and flipped on the light switch, temporarily blinded by the blast of yellow light. He heard Sousuke take a seat on the couch as he grabbed a new cigar from the kitchen counter, then joined Sousuke on the couch.

 

Makoto put the cigar in-between his lips, and almost instantaneously Sousuke had produced a lighter and lit the cigar; a knee jerk reaction he had developed.

 

“So,” Makoto said, sucking in the sweet smoke. “Why are you bothering me when it’s this late at night? More damn paperwork?” He blew out the smoke, irritated.

 

“No, boss. Um…” Sousuke began, fixing his tie nervously. Makoto raised an eyebrow at him; this wasn’t like Sousuke. He was never _this_ nervous when he was talking to Makoto. In fact, he thought Sousuke was the only one who wasn’t scared of him.

 

“Spit it out, Yamazaki.”

 

Sousuke clenched his fists, a light sheen of sweat visible on his forehead. He swallowed, loud, before speaking.

 

“There is a new group trying to invade Orca territory, boss.”

 

Makoto inhaled so quickly that he took a very, _very_ large huff of cigar smoke, which resulted in an embarrassing coughing fit. “ _What?_ ” He thought. “ _A new group? In Iwatobi?_ ”

 

“B-boss! Are you alright?” Sousuke said, panicked as he patted Makoto on the back rather hard. Makoto desperately tried to even his breathing and shoved Sousuke’s hand away, tears prickling his eyes.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Sousuke! No one has been in Iwatobi but us for the past four years, so give me the damn details!” He rasped.

 

Iwatobi was claimed as a specific branch of yakuza- the group Makoto was part of. He was put in charge, and told that this town was his. He had received no word from the higher-ups about another group coming in, so he immediately scratched off _ally_ from his possible list of explanations.

 

“R-right. Remember that old hotel a little ways out of town? Down east? Well, it seems they’ve bought it and are currently… staying there. I’ve sent some men out to do reconnaissance, but the only information that we really have is that they are yakuza, just… not friends of ours.” His words are calculated, knowing that if he upsets Tachibana-sama it will _not_ be pretty.

 

“The name, Yamazaki? You got the name?” Makoto growls. How _dare_ this new group come and prowl around his territory. What could they possibly want with Iwatobi?

 

Makoto didn’t really dwell on it. He just knew he’d have to snuff out the problem quickly before it became an annoyance.

 

Sousuke sighs, nodding. “Mh. The Crystal Sharks.”

 

Makoto stared blankly at Sousuke.

 

“…Is… is this a joke, Yamazaki?”

 

“…No, boss.”

 

It was silent for a moment until Makoto’s bellowing laughter filled the room. Sousuke jerked back, startled and a little concerned that Tachibana-sama had lost his mind due to sleep deprivation.

 

“The… The _Crystal Sharks_? Y-Yamazaki… Ahahaha!” Makoto held his aching stomach in his hands as he tried to control himself. With a name like that, the threat factor couldn’t be more than a 3 on a scale of 1-10. Makoto had noticed an amusing trend in the names of groups; they kept getting alarmingly dumber.

 

“Er, boss… what do you propose we do?” Sousuke said, trying to pull Makoto out of his giggle-fit. Makoto waved him off, unconcerned.

 

“I’ll go out there tomorrow with a group of men to scope it out. You’ll be coming, too. In the meantime, don’t worry too much about it.” Clearing his throat, Makoto stood, and stretched. “Get out, Yamazaki, I’m going to bed.”

 

“Yes, boss. Goodnight.” Sousuke gave a quick bow, and exited the room. He stood there and waited until he heard Sousuke shut the door behind him, then fell back onto the couch.

 

Although Makoto played it off as if he weren’t concerned, he truthfully was; very much so in fact. He was worried he didn’t have the numbers, or strength to fight off a new foreign group. Even though his men were tough as nails, there were few who were ready to pick up a gun and go out to fight. Roughly about 64% of his group was new recruits, and some of them didn’t even know how to work a gun when they first joined.

 

Brushing a hand through his unkempt hair, Makoto let his head fall back against the couch. He heard the dull, painful throb of his heart in the silent room, and that only caused it to ache more.

 

Makoto didn’t want to admit it, but at times like this, he felt lonely. He felt like he did the first few nights after learning of the fire that took his family; he just wanted to hold someone and cry and cry until he didn’t have any more tears to shed. He knew it was a stupid and unnecessary thought, and that it would be gone in the morning- just like every plaything he’s had before that he’s used to try and sate his loneliness.

 

His eyelids grew heavy as the beating of his heart became a sort of lullaby, and found himself slipping in and out of consciousness. The thoughts and troubles of the day sort of drifted out of his mind, like a lazy cloud, and before he knew it he was asleep.

 

**

It was wet. Wet and cold, and he couldn’t see.

 

He tried to move, but it felt as if he were weighed down, like someone had attached weights to his hands and feet.

 

“ _… Have I been thrown into the bay?_ ” He thought, alarmed. It was not uncommon for people to end up in the ocean like this; dumping people into the water was the yakuza’s favorite form of… discarding.

 

 _“No,_ ” Makoto answered himself. “ _I can breathe._ ” He was right. Although he appeared to be underwater, he was breathing normally; inhale through his nose, exhale through his mouth.

 

Looking around did him no good. It was an inky blue all around him, as if he were in a sphere. Trying to swim instead of move this time, he managed to swim upwards, yet it yielded no light or indication he was anywhere near the surface. Makoto grunted, frustrated. Just what sort of game was this?

 

Suddenly, there was a flash of bubbles to his left. Whipping his head around, he only found empty space. Makoto stayed still for a moment, searching with his eyes rather than with his body. And he saw it again.

 

Although this time, it did not disappear. Something latched itself onto his leg, a searing pain shooting up his calf and all the way up his spine. He tried to yell, but only bubbles came out of his open mouth.

 

Looking down at the creature who held his leg caused him to gasp; this time though, he swallowed water, not air.

 

It was a transparent shark, as weird as it sounded. Not very big, but large enough to take one helluva bite out of Makoto’s leg. He could see its heart beating and lungs moving, its teeth _thrashing-_

Makoto realized that he was drowning now. The air he’d seemed to be breathing moments ago was nowhere to be found, replaced with a sick, salty water. It burned his lungs as he drank more and more, trying to plead out a _help me_.

 

Struggling to get the shark off and not inhale water proved difficult for him, and his vision began to ebb at the edges. His lungs stung, as did his leg, and he could feel himself beginning to let go. Just as Makoto thought that it was all over for him, that maybe, just _maybe_ , he’d finally be able to rest, the shark was thrown off of him violently.

 

With what little strength he could muster, he turned his head towards the shark, curiously thinking _“Why’d he let me go?_ ”

 

There, now battling the vicious shark, was a bright, warm blue dolphin. It was much smaller than the shark, yet it somehow, miraculously, drove it back into the inky depths.

 

And then it was calling his name.

 

“Makoto!”

 

Why could he understand it so clearly? One, he was underwater, two, he was drowning, and three- _it was a dolphin_. Yet it cried out to him again, and this time, it was right next to his floating figure.

 

 _“Makoto!_ ”

 

Then there were flames. They were burning Makoto and he couldn’t move, he yearned for the water, _yearned_ to drown in the quiet darkness. He could hear his mother and father screaming his name.

 

He could hear Ren and Ran cry. He wanted to get them. He needed to get them.

 

But he couldn’t move and it burned, it burned it _burns_ -

 

“Makoto!”

 

He let out a yell as his eyes snapped open, his whole body jerking forwards and falling onto the cold, wooden floor. He could feel the cold sweat that had gathered on his skin and could make out a pair of shiny black shoes in front of his face.

 

“ _Oh._ ” He sighed. It had been a nightmare. Just a nightmare.

 

He felt a little disappointed.

 

“Mak- Tachibana-sama, are you alright? You were sort of having a…spasm, in your sleep…” It was Sousuke’s voice, Makoto realized, and quickly sat up, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

 

“I’m fine. Just was having a nightmare about having to see your face today, Yamazaki.” Makoto joked, pulling himself up so he was standing. Sousuke wore a playful smile and shook his head, though Makoto could see the concern that still lingered in his eyes.

 

Makoto really, genuinely hated when people pitied him, worried about him, or felt bad for him. It just rubbed him the wrong way for some reason. He did not want to be seen as someone who needed to be cared for. He could take care of himself.

 

…Right?

 

“Anyway boss, it’s 9:30. We’re getting ready to head out soon, so if it’s okay with you, you can meet us at the gate when you’re ready to go.” Sousuke said, bowing and turning to leave.

 

Makoto was dumbstruck. When he had fallen asleep it had been around… what, 3:40AM? And he slept until 9:30AM?

 

“ _This must be a good omen,”_ he thought happily to himself and walked towards his room, stripping along the way. When he reached the bathroom, he was already nude and quickly hopped in, not wanting to see the many scars that littered his throat all the way down to his ankles.

 

The warm water soothed his aching muscles, and he ending up staying in the shower for longer than he initially planned, causing him to having to skip a bath. He quickly dried his hair and dressed himself-black suit, green tie- and armored up; secret knife around his ankle, two pistols strapped to his waist and a small reserve handgun in the inside of his coat pocket.

 

He really hoped these wouldn’t be necessary, but Makoto had learned the hard way that when you’re yakuza, taking a gun everywhere you go is common sense. So, he adjusted his tie in the mirror, slicked back his hair (maybe it wouldn’t look so bad if it was out of his face) and walked out the door.

 

Makoto lived in the main building of the complex that had been built by his group. It was at the northern end of town, and before it had become their residence, it was a group of large houses, owned by wealthier citizens of Iwatobi. Of course, after the Bell Orcas had risen to power, the people reluctantly handed over their properties, giving the Orcas a nice sturdy base.

 

It had been renovated so that two of the large houses had become somewhat like barracks, housing the members of the group. Another house was used to store weapons, and the smallest house was used as a sort of prison. The house Makoto lived in was where all the higher-ups of the group lived and where meetings took place. He thought it was almost like a University campus.

 

Makoto scoffed darkly as he put on his sunglasses. “University campus, huh…” the thought sent a pang of pain through his heart, thinking back to what could have been-no, what _should_ have been. Now was not the time to be regretting his choices though, he thought. There was business to be dealt with.

 

As he approached the gate that was down the road some, one of the younger members called out.

 

“Ah! Oyassan! Are you ready?” the boy bounced up and down with energy, and Makoto envied him. He wished he had that kind of excitement. That drive to do this dirty work.

 

“Mh. When we arrive, we don’t know what will happen. Do not fire unless I say so, got it?” His tone was fierce, that of a leader. There was a collective “Yes, boss!” and the yakuza- only about 7 of them- piled into a large car that reminded Makoto of a tank. He and Sousuke got into a smaller car, a foreign BMW (Makoto’s favorite) and followed behind the others.

 

Sousuke was silent while he drove, and Makoto fiddled with his sunglasses; they were lopsided and he couldn’t get them straight.

 

“Boss, you sure you’re alright?” Sousuke suddenly spoke up, but did not take his eyes off the road.

 

Makoto felt a twinge of annoyance; there it was, his selfless concern for Makoto. “I’m fine, Yamazaki. Stop worrying about me. I’m the head of this group, and if I can’t handle it then I will make sure to discard myself to save you the trouble.”

 

He felt Sousuke’s gaze on him for a quick second, and then his eyes were back on the road. They didn’t speak again until they pulled up at the hotel, and Makoto couldn’t help but laugh.

 

It was in desperate need of renovation; it was big, yes, but he could tell the structure was weak and outdated. The fact that they housed a whole group inside one hotel was even made Makoto feel embarrassed for them.

 

“Ready, boss?” Sousuke said, clicking the safety on his gun to _off_.

 

“Yep. Let’s see who these ‘Crystal Sharks’ really are.”

 

They opened the doors and stepped out into the chilly air; Makoto hadn’t even noticed that the leaves on the trees had begun to change from green to shades of yellow and orange. Following their lead, the other men began spilling out of the large truck, and scoping around the building.

 

Makoto thought it was a little strange that they had no one on guard, but he figured that this amateur group wouldn’t have thought as far ahead as security.

 

“Five of you stand guard here. Two of you come with me.” Makoto said and started to walk with Sousuke behind him. There was a quick squabble between the men but by the time Makoto had reached the glass doors, he had 3 people to accompany him.

 

Searching for a way to get in, he found a buzzer, along with a camera. “ _Alright,”_ he thought “ _this is how they’re gonna play.”_ And pressed the buzzer.

 

There was a moment of silence before the camera gave a soft _click_ and a rough voice emitted from unseen speakers.

 

“State your name and business with us, please.”

 

Makoto sighed. He felt like he was at a job interview or something.

 

“My name is Tachibana Makoto, head of the Bell Orcas. Iwatobi is currently under our control, so I just thought I’d stop by and say hello to our new… neighbors.” He could hear the menacing tone in his voice, and apparently the man who spoke did too because there was some mumbling and then his voice rang out, a little too loud.

 

“Welcome. Someone will be there shortly to escort you to the boss.” There was another click and then he saw men approaching, dressed in black with red ties, towards the door.

 

He could feel the tension in the air. When two yakuza groups met like this, nothing good ever came out of it. He looked back at his men, giving a small nod of reassurance. The doors opened and one man stepped out in front of the rest.

 

“This way, please.” He said before beginning to walk. Makoto almost laughed again. “ _Not even asking for guns or weapons? Are they insulting us?_ ” Makoto briefly considered storming the whole building right then and there.

 

It was very nice on the inside compared to what it looked like on the outside. They probably only fixed it up in here, he thought. Nice furniture and rugs and such were littered throughout the lobby, which almost impressed him.

 

They were led to a large elevator and ushered inside. Their escort pressed the top floor button, and the elevator shot up, climbing each level with a little _ding_.

 

Makoto was on high alert. What would this boss of theirs be like? Big? Scary?

 

What if this was a trap?

 

“ _No,_ ” Makoto scolded himself. “ _This isn’t a trap. We would’ve noticed._ ”

 

The elevator gave one final _ding_ and the doors opened, revealing a large, spacious penthouse. The living room was large, big as the lobby maybe, and there were stairs leading up to the second floor, which was open, blocked off by only an elegant railing. Makoto briefly wondered if he would die if he were jump from the second floor to the first.

 

His thought was interrupted when Sousuke nudged him in the back, signaling for him to move. They stepped out of the elevator and made their way to the center of the room where a large, blood-red couch sat. And on that couch, sat a man with the exact same colored hair.

 

“Matsuoka-sama, guests have arrived.” The man leading Makoto and his group bowed and motioned to them. The man named Matsuoka, who was previously busy with a book, looked up. His eyes were almost the same color as his hair, which Makoto thought was weird. There was a glimmer of excitement in them as well, as he looked over Makoto and the rest.

 

“Ah! May I ask who they are?” Matsuoka jumped up from the couch, and walked over to greet them. His suit had become wrinkled whilst he was laying down, and looked very unprofessional. “ _What a waste of time._ ” Makoto thought as Matsuoka reached them.

 

“My name is Tachibana Makoto. I am the leader of the yakuza group the Bell Orcas. We occupy the town of Iwatobi, and have so for some time now. I had heard rumors of a new group and wanted to, ah, come check it out myself.” Makoto put on a smile for Matsuoka- if it could even be called a smile. It was more like a cold sneer, and made most people shiver.

 

“I’m Matsuoka Rin. I’ve recently become the leader of the Crystal Sharks, and decided to relocate near Iwatobi. I apologize, I didn’t realize we had… _competition_.” There was something about his tone that made Makoto’s eyes narrow; he already did not trust this man.

 

“Well, Matsuoka-san, all I wish to do is warn you. Please, do _not_ try and invade our territory. I’m afraid that if you do, we will have to eradicate you as well as your group.”

 

Matsuoka’s face went from a mocking smile to a glare in maybe 3 seconds, showing that all the nice formalities were over.

 

“ _Eradicate_ us? Who-“ his loud growl was interrupted by a door upstairs opening and closing, making quite a racket. Everyone turned their gaze to the spiral staircase, where a person now began to descend them.

 

When they fully came into view, Makoto felt his heart stop beating.

 

It was a man, maybe a little younger than Makoto, with a small, lithe body and pale skin. His hair was a very dark blue- he would probably call it navy if asked. Yet his eyes, _oh_ , his eyes made shivers go down Makoto’s spine. They were a breathtakingly beautiful blue, somehow familiar to Makoto. They were vivid, like the colors you see in wacky children’s books, the kind of color that makes you think to yourself “ _That shade of blue exists?_ ”

 

He reached the bottom of the stairs and walked over besides Matsuoka, and Makoto noticed he wasn’t in a suit. Rather, he was in a baby blue shirt and white pants. Really white, really nice, _tight_ pants-

 

“Who are they?” He mumbled, pointing straight at Makoto. His heart once again skipped a beat in his chest; his voice was intoxicating, and- _wait_.

 

What the hell was he thinking about this kid? He cleared his throat, embarrassed at the thoughts that were currently pulsing through Makoto’s head like a steady beat.

 

“Ah… Haru, they’re the group who has control of Iwatobi,” Matsuoka said, gesturing towards them. “This is Nanase Haruka, my… assistant.” He seemed to struggle to find the right word, which Makoto found amusing. But when he said that, Haruka’s eyes seemed to flicker to the floor and he kind of seemed to shrink.

 

“Nice to meet you, Nanase-san.” Makoto said to him politely, and Haruka _smiled_. _Smiled_ at Makoto.

 

 It was then that Makoto felt something strange in his chest. It wasn’t the usual ache, no. It was different somehow… he couldn’t really place the feeling. He continued to stare at Haruka, looking him over once, twice, a third time before a light bulb went off over his head.

 

“Matsuoka-san. It was a pleasure meeting you, and I hope our two groups will do good business in the future.” Makoto said before turning on his heel and walking out of the penthouse and into the elevator, followed quickly by an alarmed Sousuke and the rest. Matsuoka hadn’t even had a chance to retort before they were descending the hotel now, floor by floor.

 

All the way down, the vivid blue of Haruka’s eyes were sketched into Makoto’s eyelids; he saw them every time he blinked. He opted to keep his eyes shut.

 

The door slid open and they briskly walked through the halls, avoiding the sharp gazes they were getting from the other yakuza. When they exited the hotel, they were met with the men who had stayed behind.

 

“Oyassan! How did it go?” The men asked Makoto as he walked towards the car. He was too busy scheming to give a proper answer. Too busy coming up with quite possibly, if Makoto says himself, the best plan he’s ever had. There was much to do, oh yes, much _, much_ to do.

 

“We will discuss the matter when we get back to the grounds.” He said quickly before shutting the door, and Sousuke quickly hopped in, starting the car immediately and beginning the drive back.

 

Makoto could tell Sousuke wanted to say something, but he didn’t care. He had something to say as well.

 

“Yamazaki, I want the deed to that hotel.”

 

Silence.

 

Sousuke slammed on the brakes, surprised by the words Makoto had just spoken. Was he out of his _god damn mind_?

 

“And how do you propose we do that, boss?” His tone openly showed his disagreement to the idea, but Makoto didn’t mind. He knew he didn’t really want the hotel, anyway. It was a piece of shit, probably only worth a couple hundred thousand. There was something there, far more valuable that he desired.

 

“Easy. We hold a ransom.”

 

“And what will we be holding for ransom, boss?” Sousuke spluttered sarcastically. He had to be joking… right?

 

Makoto looked straight into Sousuke’s eyes, and then Sousuke saw it.

 

That devilish gleam that Tachibana had only when he meant _business_.

 

No, Makoto was indeed _not_ joking.

 

“Nanase Haruka.”


	2. Heartaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto reunites with an old friend in the _most_ peculiar way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **hyphen - = POV shift**
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> enjoy
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>  **warning** \- this chapter may cause feels

Haru woke from a deep, peaceful sleep to the sound of banter downstairs on the first floor of the penthouse. The sun hurt his eyes and he desperately wished to just stay in bed, but his curiosity got the better of him.

 

He rose slowly, the sheets that had snaked themselves around his limbs falling softly onto the large bed. Every part of him ached as he slid off the mattress, feeling the plush red carpet beneath his bare feet. Drowsily, he walked to the closet, big enough to be a second room ( _Maybe I should sleep in here_ , he thought briefly) and opened the door, revealing a large mirror that hung off the door.

 

Haru didn’t want to look. He really didn’t.

 

But he just couldn’t help himself.

 

As he had expected, his milky skin was littered with ugly purple bruises and bright red teeth marks, standing out like splatters of paint on a blank white canvas. Hesitantly, he brushed his fingers across a large mark on his neck, feeling a prickle of pain in the path his fingers traced on it.

 

Haru sighed, turning away from the mirror and walking into the closet, searching specifically for an outfit that would hide his… _marks_.

 

Sifting through the vast array of clothes allowed his mind to wander. He tried to remember a time when he was happy; when he felt as if there was a reason to be alive. A time when he wasn’t just a toy.

 

Now, Haru is not saying that he isn’t grateful to Rin. He knows that he had saved him. Without Rin, he’d probably be out on the streets somewhere, drugged up and fucked out. Yes, he knew that.

 

That thought did little to comfort Haru, however.

 

Rin now –in the most delicate of terms- kept Haru as a _pet_ , and Haru _hated_ it.

 

Unlike a normal pet though, Haru couldn’t run away. Partly because if he did, there’s a 99.9% chance he would be tracked down and killed, and partly because, as much as he hated to admit it, he was in debt to Rin. There was no skipping over that fact.

 

He often thought it would be much easier if Rin could just use him until he got bored, then dump him off somewhere; an alley, a junkyard, the ocean- wherever. It would be _so much easier_ , Haru thought, if he didn’t care at all.

 

Unfortunately for Haru, Rin was a hardcore romantic, -and to Haru’s amusement- often cried.

 

 Strange for a yakuza boss, is it not?

 

Tired of searching through the endless amounts of cloth, he threw on the first boxers, pants and shirt he laid eyes on. Shuffling out of the closet, he made his way to the door, where the conversation had growth rather loud, and he recognized a new voice. “ _New member, probably”_ he thought and opened the door. Yes, it was _definitely_ a new voice; he had never heard such a smooth, deep tone before. He shut the door quietly, thought _No, let’s have some fun_ , and reopened it.

 

Then, using all his strength, he shut it with a large _wham!_

 

He heard the conversation cease, and smiled to himself a bit. Haru then walked to the stairs and began the spiraling descent downwards, lowering his head to hide the small smile on his face.

 

When he reached the bottom the smile immediately vanished when he saw not new members, but… other yakuza?

 

And the man standing in the front- wow, Haru had never seen such green eyes before. As he looked closer, he saw many things in those eyes. They were cold, cruel- this man had obviously gone through some shit. Yet under all the icy layers of the man’s eyes, he could see pain. Deep pain, etched into every feature of his being.

 

Haru could see it, because he was the same way himself.

 

Walking up besides Rin, he gestured towards the group. One man, not the green eyed guy, was staring at Haru with a rather disdainful look, almost like he was disgusted. His eyes were teal. Haru thought the green was prettier.

 

“Who are they?” he asked quietly, trying to draw attention away from himself. It didn’t really work though, as Mr.green eyes had been staring at him since he set foot on the bottom step anyway.

 

“Ah… Haru, they’re the group who has control of Iwatobi,” Rin said. “This is Nanase Haruka, my… assistant.” Haru shivered slightly at the tone of Rin’s voice. “ _Assistant, huh_ ” he thought bitterly to himself and lowered his eyes. If only that were the case.

 

“Nice to meet you, Nanase-san.” Green eyes said, causing Haru’s gaze to drift upwards, surprised at the gentle voice. “ _Nanase-san_ ,” he thought “ _I like it._ ” Haru smiled at him; a nice, genuine smile that felt natural on his lips.

 

Then there was silence. He counted the seconds in his head.

 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…

 

“Matsuoka-san. It was a pleasure meeting you, and I hope our two groups will do good business in the future.” He said, and then he was gone- his group members scurried after him, reminding Haru of rats.

 

“Ahh… what a pain.” Rin sighed, reaching high above his head trying to stretch his stiff muscles once the strange group had disappeared from sight. The yakuza who led the group up to the penthouse bowed to Rin before disappearing down the emergency exit, leaving Rin and Haru alone.

 

“Who was that?” The words had left Haru’s mouth before he could filter them. Rin looked at Haru, narrow eyes seeming to burn holes through his skin.

 

Rin answered slowly. “It’s not important.”

 

Haru sighed, frustrated. He knew that Rin was probably going to go on a whole big spiel about how “you should only have eyes for me” and “you shouldn’t be thinking about other men when I’m right in front of you”. Haru’s only choice was to do the one thing that drove Rin crazy- that would make Rin submit to even the weirdest of Haru’s requests.

 

Opening his eyes wide, he tugged gently on Rin’s jacket, and pouted.

 

“…Please?”

 

Rin covered his mouth with his hand, trying to avoid Haru’s gaze.

 

It was no use.

 

“Dammit Haru… Fine! He was the leader of the Bell Orcas. Tachibana Makoto.”

 

“…Makoto,” he repeated, the word seemed to roll of his tongue. It left a sweet aftertaste.

 

“What’s that look for, Haru?” Rin said, voice lowering. His hands snaked around Haru’s waist and went right to his ass, squeezing it a little _too_ hard for Haru, who was still more than a bit sore.

 

He didn’t even realize he was making a face, but it obviously had upset Rin, because his cold hands were now up his shirt, raking his nails against Haru’s back.

 

“R-rin, stop-” He tried to push away, but Rin caught him by the wrists.

 

“Don’t forget,” he growled into Haru’s ear, nipping at the lobe “you belong to me.”

 

The words crushed Haru, every last piece of him ground into a fine sand, blown away by the wind. He knew what Rin had said was true, yet for it to be said out loud, it made him feel helpless; like there was no way out.

 

Sensing that Haru’s resolve had crumbled, Rin pushed him down onto the couch and began nipping and sucking at his neck violently, periodically drawing blood.

 

Haru was sure the bruises this time would hurt a hell lot more.

 

-

 

“Boss, I am _telling you_ -“

 

“Yamazaki! I don’t want to hear it!”

 

As soon as Makoto had made it back to the compound, Sousuke forcibly dragged him to the meeting room, not even letting Makoto remove his jacket. Sousuke had locked the door behind them, and they were alone in the large, dim room. Makoto sighed, taking a seat on the table and loosening his tie. He tried to ignore the look Sousuke was giving him.

 

“Can you at least _please_ explain to me what you’re playing at?” Sousuke’s voice was hushed, yet his words were fierce, sharp like a knife. Makoto _really_ didn’t have time for this.

 

“I told you in the car, Yamazaki,” he sighed, beginning to feel the early symptoms of a terrible migraine. “I want that hotel. And we will use the kid to get it.”

 

If looks could kill, Makoto would be 6 feet under by now. “ _Why does it feel like I’m the subordinate here?_ ” he wondered as Sousuke pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“…Why?”

 

“ _So I can have Nanase._ ” The words were ready on his lips, and Makoto considered just saying it. It’d probably be easier to explain than this shit.

 

“So we have control over that area as well as here in Iwatobi?” It came out sounding more like a question than he had originally intended it too, and he could practically smell the suspicion leaking out of Sousuke. It was silent, the only sound being provided by the low hum of the heater in the corner.

 

“It’s a bad idea, boss.”

 

“Oh? Why do you think that?”

 

Makoto was challenging him now, the cold, evil man beginning to break through the calm exterior he usually kept. Sousuke could see this quite well.

 

-

 

“…Taking the kid is risky. We don’t know who he is, why he’s with Matsuoka-“

 

“Yamazaki.” The tone of Makoto’s voice chilled Sousuke to his very core. _Oh,_ he’d done it this time.

 

“I don’t think you fully understand the situation.” Makoto was standing up now, voice flat and void of emotion. “I’m the boss here. I run this _fucking_ operation, and _my word_ is _law_. If I want you to take a hotel, you do it,” His eyes were bright- electric, in a way. Sousuke took a shaky breath as Makoto stepped closer to him, and he swore the room had dropped 20 degrees, despite the heater. “If I want you to fucking _take over Japan_ , you _do it_. So if you think telling me that ‘this is a bad idea’ is going to stop me, I should just get rid of you _right here_.”

 

Sousuke suddenly felt something very cold and hard pressed against him abdomen, and looked down. He laughed weakly at the sight of a pistol in his boss’s hand.

 

He didn’t laugh because he thought Makoto was joking- no, he laughed because he knew that he was _dead serious_.

 

Sousuke knew that Makoto didn’t really give a shit about the hotel. He’d seen the way Makoto looked at Nanase, had seen the _lust_ in his eyes; once Makoto had begun to pursue something, he wouldn’t stop until he got it, and Sousuke knew this all too well. Getting Makoto any angrier than he was now was a very bad idea, so there was no use in arguing. Going back there to get the kid was no problem compared to having to deal with a _very_ angry yakuza boss.

 

“ _Matsuoka was kind of hot, anyway,_ ” Sousuke thought.

 

-

 

“I’m sorry, Tachibana-sama. Please forgive me.” The sound of Sousuke’s apology snapped Makoto out of his quiet rage. He slowly lowered the gun that was pressed against his right-hand-man’s crisp suit, and pocketed it. Clicking his tongue, he backed away.

 

“I’m glad you understand. If you’ll excuse me.”

 

Makoto made his way past Sousuke and unlocked the door, fleeing out into the hallway. He walked along the white corridor, shoes clacking in the empty space.

 

He couldn’t normally be stopped when he became angry like that, and that back there probably couldn’t even be considered _angry_. He was more ticked off than pissed off, which made him feel even worse about what he’d done. It’s like Makoto would become a completely different person in these types of situations, scaring many - and killing even more.

 

Makoto sighed, the pain in his temples slowly going from “ _ouch_ ” to “ ** _OW_** ” as he pushed the elevator button to the top floor; his room. The tacky elevator music did nothing but make his head hurt harder, and when the door finally opened to his hallway he almost prayed it was over.

 

“ _Who am I kidding,_ ” he thought, “ _I haven’t prayed since I was 18._ ”

 

Unlocking his door, he lazily pushed it open and removed his shoes. He stood there for a moment after closing the door, and decided that a nap was probably the best course of action.

 

Makoto made his way through the quite apartment, listening for a sound, any sound, to make him feel less alone; yet it was silent.

 

He quickly stripped himself down to his undershirt and boxers, removing the concealed weapons and tossing them into the laundry basket. He would just have to make sure that when someone came and got his laundry, they wouldn’t accidently injure themselves. He got under the cold covers, wrapping himself in the sheets and curling up. The king sized bed had been awfully lonely as of late, and it felt weird to be sleeping in an actual bed.

 

Makoto stared at the dark tan wall as he thought to himself. What if he just told Sousuke that he wanted Nanase? Would that change his opinion?

 

And more importantly, why did he even _want_ Nanase so damn much? Sure, he thought that he was aesthetically appealing, but Makoto felt something… more. A much deeper connection that went far past just appearances.

 

What a stupid idea.

 

He let out a small sigh through his nose and closed his eyes. It was painful to think right now, so Makoto cleared his mind. It felt nice, not having to worry about the problems of everyday life, and he was lost in the lucid feeling.

 

Before Makoto knew it he was sound asleep. He did not dream of transparent sharks, or dolphins who knew how to talk. He dreamt of nothing at all.

 

**

 

The next day went by rather quickly for Makoto. He held a meeting about the situation with the hotel, and of course, everyone agreed, after a small quip from Sousuke. When he sent a glare in his direction, Sousuke would not meet his eyes, rather, he kept his gaze focused on the small crack in the table.

 

After that, it was uneventful. Makoto checked the income, the expenses, and the list of names he had delivered monthly; many people who did not pay debts, or got in trouble with the gang ended up on the list. Those people would always mysteriously disappear in the dead of night.

 

At around 10:21 PM that day, Makoto heard a rapid series of knocks on his door as he sat in the living room, researching on his laptop.

 

Well, he wasn’t really researching, per say. He had always, _always_ wanted a cat, yet he felt that if he were to get one, people would get the image of him sitting in a swivel chair, stroking a fluffy white cat in his lap with whilst wearing an eyepatch, and that didn’t really appeal to him that much. So, Makoto wasted time by browsing cats on the local petfinder- and yes, he _always_ cleared his history afterwards.

 

“Oyassan! Please open up!” The voice wasn’t necessarily panicked, but it sounded hurried. Sighing, Makoto shut his laptop and set it on the coffee. He shuffled over to the door, and opened it in a swift movement. The yakuza jumped a bit at his sudden appearance but was quickly back on track when Makoto gave him the dead eye.

 

“ _Why do people always bother me when it’s late?_ ” He sulked to himself as the young yakuza bowed sloppily before speaking.

 

“There seems to be a drug dealer who wants to do business with us, and requests meeting with you now, Tachibana-sama!” Makoto wrinkled his nose.

 

“We don’t do business with low key drug dealers, Misaki-kun. You know that.” He scolded, but the yakuza member shook his head.

 

“He isn’t low key! He runs a big club downtown and has a whole _big_ drug operation, right under our noses! He sent us a member of his drug ring asking to meet with you to discuss business.”

 

Makoto was suspicious, yes, but he just couldn’t turn down a possible business opportunity. The worst thing that could happen was a shootout, and it’s not like he hasn’t been in one of those before.

 

“Fine. Round up a group of 5, including Yamazaki. I want everyone in the parking lot by 10:40.” He sighed. The boy gave a _yes, sir!_ and was off, running down the dark hallway. He chuckled at the boys’ enthusiasm and closed the door, getting ready to prepare.

 

At exactly 10:40, Makoto arrived at the parking lot and was greeted by the yakuza there. He gave Sousuke a nod, and turned to the rest of the group.

 

“All I know is that we’re meeting with a man who is in charge of a major drug operation. I don’t know what club he runs, what he looks like, nothing. Be on your guard.” He turned to Misaki as the others began piling into the black suburban. “You’re riding with Sousuke and I. Tell us where to go.”

 

He nodded and got into the back of the BMW Sousuke had gotten in. Makoto followed, hopping in on the passenger side.

 

“Ready?” Sousuke said even though he had already started the engine and was pulling out of the lot, towards the rear gates. It was kind of a tradition; Sousuke would always ask Makoto the same question before they’d go somewhere on business.

 

“Yup.” He replied, loading his gun with a sharp _snap_ of metal. The moon was full and illuminated the street eerily as they drove into town. At this time of night, the street corners were littered with druggies and prostitutes, waving at the passing cars in hopes of earning some cash. When Makoto’s cars drove by though, no one waved.

 

“So, Misaki-kun. What’s the name of this place, and why have we never heard of it?” Sousuke said, breaking the long streak of silence.

 

“I believe it’s called _The Pink Penguin_ , and it re-“

 

“Wait,” the boy was cut off by Makoto, who had swiveled around in his chair to face Misaki.

 

“ _The Pink Penguin_? Misaki, what kind of club is this?” Makoto glared at him, causing the boy to squirm a bit. With a name like that, Makoto had a very good idea of what kind of place this was.

 

“W-well, that is…”

 

“We’re here.” Sousuke interrupted again, coming to a stop in front of a large brick building. There was a big neon sign that hung above two big iron doors, which read _The Pink Penguin_ and glowed in an obnoxiously pink light. Along with the sign, there was also a neon penguin, who seemed to be holding what looked to be a whip.

 

“Oh, you have _got_ to be shitting me.” Makoto breathed out as both Sousuke and Misaki got out of the car, as did the rest of the yakuza who had followed behind them. Sousuke rapped on the glass with his knuckles, startling Makoto out of his thoughts. He took a deep breath before opening the car door and stepping out into the chilly night air.

 

They walked up to the doors, and Makoto hesitated before putting his hand on the handle, and opened it.

 

Almost immediately, he was blinded by strobe lights and the smell of sweet cocktails. He could see nearly naked men dancing on platforms scattered around the large space, some with poles, some without. There were numerous cat calls and whistled mixed in with the heavy dubstep that played in the background. Makoto sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time tonight, the scene before him confirming his suspicions he had in the car.

 

This was a gay strip club.

 

Now, Makoto knew that he was gay. From a young age, he was aware that while some of his friends had crushes on girls, he usually had crushes on _them_. It didn’t really bother him that much, but if his group were to find out… that’s what scared him. For his men to lose respect for him would mean Makoto’s life would be over, and everything he has endured for the past four years would be for naught; that’s why he had decided it was best if he kept his sexual orientation to himself.

 

So, with this in mind, Makoto was _very_ focused on not letting his eyes rest on one specific person for too long.

 

“Hey there! Wow, big group! What can we do for you tonight?” A man wearing a rabbit costume said happily, sauntering up to them and making a show of his big, fluffy bunny tail. Makoto nervously cleared his throat. He kind of wished they were in a shootout rather than this situation at this point. All of his men seemed uncomfortable at the glances they were getting, fidgeting with their coats and murmuring amongst themselves. Sousuke was the only one who looked unfazed; he looked almost bored.

 

“We’d like to speak with the boss of this club.” He said authoritively, trying to hide ignore the whistles directed at him. The man narrowed his eyes and was silent for a moment.

 

“Are you the yakuza group?” The sudden question caught Makoto off guard, and he spluttered before answering. “ _Why am I so jittery?_ ” He thought, frustrated. Just then there was a _very loud_ cat call and someone yelling about green eyes. “ _Oh yeah. Surrounded by other gay men. Been on a sexual hiatus for like, 5 months._ ” If he didn’t get out of here quick, he might start blushing- he could _not_ have that happen.

 

“Yes, the Bell Orcas.” Makoto answered, and the man’s eyes went wide. “Can we get a move on, bunny boy? My men are getting uncomfortable.”

 

“A-ah, of course! This way, please!” The man was now less energetic, and it was obvious he was nervous now, knowing he was dealing with yakuza. “ _Good,_ ” Makoto thought. “ _I like it when they’re scared of what we are._ ”

 

The man led them down a hallway to the right, a few feet away from the entrance. There were many doors on either side of the hallway, and Makoto could make out very lewd sounds from behind the doors. He focused on the man’s rabbits ears that bounced every time he took a step, trying to block out everything else.

 

He led them up a staircase, and the music gradually faded, the bass occasionally sending a vibration though the floor. They went up one more flight of stairs before they reached a small lounge, with a door at the far wall.

 

“If you’ll please come with me, sir. They others must stay behind.” The man said, motioning for Makoto to follow him.

 

“He comes with me.” Makoto jerked his head towards Sousuke. The man looked like he wanted to argue, thought better of it, and nodded. The three walked to the door, and the man knocked.

 

“Hazuki-sama, the Bell Orcas are here to see you.”

 

Makoto felt his blood run cold.

 

Hazuki?

 

_Hazuki?_

No, no it couldn’t be, it was utterly i _mpossible_ -

 

The door was pushed open, and there he was, sitting at a desk that was much too large for his small body. The room was a bright pink that hurt Makoto’s eyes, and there was a lot of lava lamps everywhere. His rich blonde hair was a little longer now shining in the bright artificial light, and his eyes were bright and full of energy- just how they used to be.

 

Makoto was about to turn around and _haul ass_ out of there, but was pushed in the room along with Sousuke, and the door was shut behind them.

 

The room was silent. Makoto didn’t dare look up, because he didn’t want to believe what he had seen.

 

“…Mako-chan?” The high familiar voice was quiet, and Makoto cursed the day he was born.

 

“Nagisa… what a… coincidence…” He mumbled, finally looking upwards. Nagisa stared at him, his jaw practically on the floor. “ _What will he think of me?_ ” Makoto thought nervously. He was obviously _not_ the kind, caring ‘Mako-chan’ he had been four years ago; he didn’t think Nagisa realized this.

 

There was a loud sound of a chair screeching against hardwood and then Makoto was suddenly on his bottom, with Nagisa straddling him as he gathered Makoto’s head in his arms. Sousuke was staring down at them with a mixed emotion of horror and amusement.

 

“OH, MAKO-CHAN! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD! I THOUGHT I’D NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN!” Nagisa wailed, hugging Makoto tighter. He felt a pang deep in his chest at Nagisa’s words. They’d been childhood friends after all, so when Makoto went “missing” Nagisa was probably left all alone.

 

Makoto knew that he himself had felt that way, at least.

 

This didn’t mean Makoto was particularly enjoying being suffocated, though.

 

“N-Nagisa, please get off of me.” Makoto struggled to remove Nagisa, and looked at Sousuke for help. Sousuke, trying to suppress a laugh, waited a few moments before he sighed-which was more of a cover-up for the chuckle that he let out-, and picked Nagisa up by his pink dress shirt and dangled him in the air. Makoto got up, tailbone throbbing, and brushed off his suit. He nodded at Sousuke, thanking him and signaling for him to put Nagisa down.

 

“Sorry, sorry. I was just excited! I didn’t expect Mako-chan to become a yakuza boss!” Nagisa chirped, walking back to his desk and plopping down in the chair. Makoto noticed a man standing by Nagisa’s desk that he hadn’t seen before, and the guy looked very uncomfortable. He wore red eyeglasses that didn’t really match his purple pants and white dress shirt.

 

“Oh,” Nagisa sighed happily, noticing Makoto’s eyes on the guy next to his desk. “This is Rei-chan, my financial advisor and lover.”

 

Rei seemed to have choked on his spit a bit and coughed, letting out a disapproving _N-Nagisa-kun!_ before bowing at Makoto and Sousuke.

 

“Nice to meet you. I am Ryugazaki Rei, Nagisa’s… financial advisor.” He left out the last part, causing Nagisa to frown.  Rei was blushing pretty bad, and Makoto almost felt bad for him- even though he was laughing himself.

 

“So, Nagisa…san, I’ve heard you want to do business with us?” Makoto asked, clearing his throat before taking a seat on a nice leather chair in front of his desk. Sousuke stood beside him, preoccupied with a lava lamp.

 

“Mako-chan! Just call me Nagisa, silly.” He giggled, propping his head up on his hand. The changes in Nagisa were subtle, but all together still there. He looked a bit older, his jaw had become sharper and Makoto could see the laugh lines etched on his face. He realized that he had missed out on Nagisa growing up.

 

Makoto wondered what would’ve happened to Nagisa if he had never left. Would he still have become a drug lord?

 

A little ashamed to admit it, he thought it was still likely.

 

“But yes, I want to do business with you. I think I’d be beneficial to my club and operation as well as to your group. For the past, hmm, three years?” Nagisa tapped his lips, trying to recall the information. “Yeah, three years- we’ve been doing business with the group _Ruff Rabbits_ , but they’ve moved off the island. I never really liked them much anyway, the leader guy had _so many_ piercings.” He shivered, sticking out his tongue.

 

“So now you want business with us?” Makoto sighed, carding his fingers through his hair. Nagisa nodded, pulling out some paperwork from a drawer in his desk.

 

“Yes, if you’d accept the offer! I have copies of all of the financial information here,” he said, pointing to a small stack of papers “and copies of all of the other stuff here.” he pointed to an even smaller stack of papers beside it.

 

“Alright, I’ll look over it now.” Makoto reached over to grab a stack of paperwork, but Nagisa caught his wrist before he was even halfway there. He looked up, confused, but Nagisa still wore the same, happy expression, yet his smile did not reach his eyes.

 

“Ah, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to speak to you in private first.” The room went silent at Nagisa’s sudden demand. Even Rei looked confused.

 

“Boss…” Sousuke began, but Makoto held up his free hand to stop him.

 

“It’s alright, Yamazaki. Go wait outside with the others.” Even though he said it was alright, he had a bad feeling in his gut. Nagisa looked at Rei, murmured something, and then Rei walked to the door, opening it for both himself and Sousuke. Still looking baffled, he followed Rei out the door, shutting it and leaving Nagisa and Makoto alone.

 

Makoto kept his gaze trained on his wrist that was still being held tightly by Nagisa. He didn’t want to look up at him. He knew what was about to happen.

 

“Makoto,” Nagisa’s voice was different now- soft, full of sadness, and Makoto felt like he had been punched in the gut. _“Nagisa,”_ he pleaded silently. “ _Please don’t do this to me. Please…_ ”

 

“What happened, Makoto? How… why…?” his voice cracked a little, and Makoto could no longer look at the hand squeezing his own. His eyes were met by wide, wet, pink ones. He licked his dry lips, searching for something to say to him. _Anything_.

 

“Nagisa… I’m sorry.” His voice was nothing more than a whisper, yet Nagisa began to cry. He let go of Makoto’s hand, which was now red and sore, and covered his mouth. His small body was wracked by silent sobs, tears streaming out of his eyes.Makoto could not look away, thought, “ _This is your fault, Makoto. Look what you’ve done._ ”

 

“Mako-chan… I know you never meant for this to happen… but,” Nagisa sniffled, voice shaking. “You left me all alone, Makoto…! You disappeared without a word, and your mom wouldn’t tell me anything! I… I thought…” He hiccupped, clenching his fists. Makoto looked on silently, not saying a word.

 

“I thought you had left me, Makoto! I thought you had gotten tired of being my friend, a-and… and e-even worse… I thought you were… dead!” Nagisa’s voice was broken by a fresh wave of sobbing. No longer able to stand the sight of his former best-friend in shambles, he looked away, deciding to stare at a rainbow lava lamp. The liquid inside oozed slowly, like a bleeding wound.

 

“Nagisa. It couldn’t be helped.” He deadpanned. Nagisa gave another hiccup before falling silent.

 

“You could have called,” Nagisa argued. There was a flash of fury inside Makoto, like someone had lit a firecracker, and he slammed his fist down against the desk, making everything on the surface of it tremble.

 

“ _No_ , Nagisa, I could _not_ have called! What do you fucking think would have happened to you?! To your _family_?!” He growled, Nagisa sinking back into his chair. “I didn’t contact you for your own good. I had hoped that maybe you would’ve forgotten about me. It would’ve been a hell of a lot easier!”

 

Nagisa was no longer crying, but he was frowning deeply, as if in thought. It looked like he had understood what Makoto was trying to tell him, yet he also looked as though he had more to say.

 

“I’m not ‘Mako-chan’ anymore, Nagisa.” he spit. There was a defiant flash in Nagisa’s eyes, ready to argue if that was really true. Makoto cut him off before the blond could speak, however.

 

“‘Mako-chan’ is long gone now. Dead.” Makoto’s voice was quieter now, yet the words were still cold. He removed his hand from the desk, sliding it across the surface and letting it fall into his lap with a soft _plop_. Nagisa sat there, eyes cast downwards and mouth shut tight.

 

Sensing that this conversation was over, Makoto grabbed both piles of paper and folded them, placing the documents on the inside of his coat pocket.

 

“I’m leaning towards accepting your offer. In the meantime, I’ll be in touch.” He murmured, walking briskly towards the door. As his hand was on the handle, ready to open it, he heard Nagisa’s gentle voice.

 

“Goodnight, Mako-chan.”

 

And with that, Makoto left the building, ignoring the confused looks of both his group members and Rei.

 

He did not say anything on the ride back to their home, and he was not asked any questions. There was a strange buzzing in his chest, like he had swallowed a whole hornet’s nest. Makoto didn’t even want to know what was happening. He didn’t care.

 

Before the car had even come to a complete stop in the parking lot, he was already on his way to his room. The people he passed were silent, looking on at their boss with questioning and fearful eyes.

 

Makoto threw open the door to his large apartment and slammed it shut, throwing off his shoes and tumbling into the dark space. The buzzing his chest grew louder and louder as he stripped on the way to the bathroom, the documents in his coat forgotten as they were slung carelessly to the hallway floor.

 

He turned the shower on _MAX Heat_ and stepped under the stream, the scalding water burning his face, his arms, his legs- but it couldn’t touch the icy coldness deep in his heart.

 

“Fuck,” He murmured, clenching his teeth. The steam was thick, blindingly heavy as Makoto stood there, knees shaking.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ” Each curse grew louder in volume, ricocheting off the walls and blasting back into his ears.

 

“ _FUCK!_ ” He yelled, slamming his hands onto the shower wall, slipping to his knees. He wanted to cry. He felt like he was going to cry. He didn't, though. He couldn't.

 

Why couldn’t he cry? _Why couldn’t he feel anything_?

 

He was numb. He knew he should feel something; guilt for leaving his friends, sadness from seeing Nagisa like that, regret for choosing to become yakuza, loss for his old life- nothing would come but ugly things like _fury towards everyone_ and _hatred for Nagisa not understanding_ and _self-loathing that made him want to vomit_.

 

He let out a vicious snarl and pounded his aching hands against the shower wall again. And again. And again.

 

Blood was splattered on the wall of the bathroom at this point, his hands now bruised and cut. Makoto glanced at his raw, red knuckles and fingers, and laughed to himself.

 

“Good,” He mumbled, voice hoarse. “I deserve it.”

 

Makoto sat in the shower until the water ran cold.

 

**

 

The next day, no one said anything about the dark circles under Tachibana-sama’s eyes, and no one asked why his hands were bandaged by white, cloth strips. Most avoided his gaze; they knew he was on edge, and if one of them were to give him the slightest push- _well,_ they could figure it out for themselves.

 

Makoto sat at the head of the conference table, a cup of tea untouched in front of him. Next to him sat Sousuke, who shot occasional glances at him. His eyes seemed to ask, “ _Are you alright?_ ” but of course, Makoto never answered, staring blankly ahead. The higher ranking members in his group sat around the table, yet kept a respectable distance from their boss.

 

It was a very long time before Makoto spoke.

 

“I have called you here today,” He drawled, causing some of his men to jump at the sudden vocalization. “to discuss the previous matter of the situation with the Crystal Sharks.” There were excited murmurs in the room now, the men’s attention now fully targeted on Makoto.

 

“I have decided that we will be executing the plan to capture Nanase,” he paused again, causing everyone to hold their breath, and even Sousuke was surprised; his boss had not discussed this with him.

 

“In three days’ time.”

 

It was silent for not _even_ half a second before the shouts of disagreement and agreement filled the room. The men argued “ _Too little time!”_ or “ _Not soon enough!_ ” as Makoto leaned back and watched the chaos in front of him. Sousuke was stunned, briefly wondering if Makoto got _pleasure_ out of dropping bombshells on him and his men.

 

“Tachibana-sama! That’s not nearly enough time to prepare!”

 

“No, no! Tachibana-sama, we’re ready! Let us go tonight!”

 

The volume of the men became louder and louder until Makoto could hear ringing in his ears. Usually, he’d slap the table to get everyone’s attention; in his current condition, however, he nudged Sousuke. Sousuke quickly got the message, and took a large breath, filling his lungs. A few noticed what was about to happen, and quickly clamped their hands over their ears. The others, however, were not as fortunate.

 

“ _SHUT UP!_ ” He roared, and it fell silent, the yakuza trembling like scolded puppies.

 

“Thank you, Yamazaki,” Makoto said, nodding to Sousuke. He gave a quick nod in return before Makoto started talking again.

 

“Three days is more than enough time to prepare ourselves. But, their defenses are strong right now and they’re on edge because of our visit. However, if we give it time to cool down, they will quickly make themselves vulnerable again.” Some nodded in agreement, yet others still looked quite agitated.

 

“Well,” he added, grabbing the attention of those who opposed his idea. “For those of you who disagree, you may walk out now if you wish. But just to let you know, there is a man waiting on the other side of that door with orders to… ah, how do you say it? ‘ _Shoot to kill_ ’.” He smiled, and the yakuza paled to a sickly shade.

 

Makoto waited a few moments, testing if anyone would really try and get up- obviously, no one did.

 

“Good!” He said, clapping his hands together. “Then it’s settled. We will execute the plan to capture Nanase in three days. You are dismissed.”

 

No one moved from their seat however, and Makoto looked on puzzled. Sousuke sighed, shaking his head.

 

“Daisuke, you’re dismissed.” He said, and there was shuffling outside the door. Makoto laughed a bit at the frightened look on his yakuza’s faces. The men slowly got up and began piling out of the room, looking around the hallway quickly for any signs of armed men, before exiting.

 

Sousuke took away Makoto’s cold tea, getting up to dump it in the bathroom. Makoto didn’t notice though. No, Makoto was far too busy, trapped in a daydream of that bright, wonderful blue that he yearned to see again.

 

He smiled to himself, unaware of Sousuke watching him nearby.

 

“Yes,” he whispered, almost inaudibly. “Nanase will be _mine._ ”

 

Sousuke left the room unnoticed, beginning to preparing himself for the bloody conflict that was surely waiting ahead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow poor Makoto  
> poor _everyone_
> 
> in other news, did any of you get the DMMD reference???  
> my baby boy sneaked his way into this story god dammit
> 
> come fangirl over free! w/ me at otomeflakes.tumblr.com


	3. Selfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Makoto doesn't really know what he wants anymore-but he gets something anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **= time lapse  
> \- = pov shift

It’s nearly midnight when Haru turns off the lamp on the bedside table, gets under the covers, and curls into his usual sleeping position- a ball. He has the bed to himself tonight, as Rin is out on business.

 

The Penthouse is quiet. Haru can hear the wind outside of the building, and he finds it peaceful. Even though it’s now pitch black in the room, there is a single beam of moonlight seeping through the silk curtains. Haru watches the shadows dance back and forth in front of it, almost like a metronome.

 

He turns onto his back, so he’s now staring up at the ceiling. “ _I haven’t had a night to myself in a while._ ” Haru thinks, taking a deep breath as if to take in the complete feel of being alone. He likes it- being alone, that is. He’s never found comfort in others, anyway.

 

Although, as of late, Haru has been feeling strange. Usually, he likes to keep to himself; doesn’t like hugs, doesn’t like holding hands- the usual. Yet now there’s a strange heaviness in his chest, as is someone has been pumping water straight into his heart. He wants to hug. He _wants_ to hold hands. But whenever Rin touches him, the feeling doesn’t go away. If anything, it gets worse.

 

Haru doesn’t know what to do.

 

Sighing, he turns his head on the soft pillow to glance at the large alarm clock besides the lamp. The time is now 12:06. Rin is due back at around 3.

 

Three hours. Three hours of peace, quiet- three hours of _freedom_.

 

Haru smiles to himself, beginning to conjure up all the possible things he can accomplish in these three hours. He can go paint a new picture. He can watch whatever he wants on the television. He can _eat all the mackerel_.

 

Haru is drawn out of his fantasies however, when he hears a loud thud from downstairs. His body tenses for a moment, frozen in place. “ _There are others in the hotel. It’s probably just them._ ” He thinks, trying to calm himself down, but he counters himself almost immediately.

 

“ _No one is allowed up here except Rin and whoever he invites up, though._ ” He waits, chewing nervously on his fingernail. It’s silent again. Haru takes a quick glance at the clock- 12:08.

 

Just as he’s about to breathe a sigh of relief, Haru hears it again. A loud _thump_ , this time closer to where he’s currently resting. There’s no question about it this time; someone is _in the Penthouse_.

 

He sits up, dragging himself slowly towards the nightstand. If Haru has remembered correctly, it should be here. If he hadn’t… well, he’d worry about that later.

 

As quietly as possible, he slides the third drawer of the nightstand open, wincing when it gives an awful squeak- but there it is, laying in its nice black velvet case. He quickly sends a ‘ _thank you_ ’ to whomever is watching over him and grabs the sleek, cold metal;  it’s heavy in his hands and Haru doesn’t like the way it feels, but he knows that if he doesn’t use it, then someone else will- on him.

 

He quickly remembers the warning that Rin had given him when they had first moved into the hotel.

 

“Haru,” he sounded like he was talking to a small child. “This gun is for _emergencies only_. If I catch you with it any other time, I’ll have to punish you.” Rin’s sharp smile was burned into Haru’s brain and he shuddered.

 

“I hope this can be considered an ‘emergency’,” he mumbled to himself, clicking the safety to _off_ and checking the magazine, making sure it was loaded. Haru was a little concerned, considering he’s only fired a gun maybe three times in his whole entire life, but at point-blank range it wouldn’t- **hopefully** \- be a problem.

 

There were more sounds other than just thuds now, some loud, some soft; Haru wasn’t too sure, but they sounded very much like heavy boots. He didn’t want to think about it, though there was no use in fooling himself.

 

Taking a shaky breath, Haru rose from the bed, took a moment to collect himself, and tiptoed to the door. The air coming from the cracked window was cold, filling the room with an uncomfortable atmosphere. When he got to the door, he pressed his ear against it lightly, but not before locking it.

 

What he heard made him nearly drop the gun.

 

Not only were there footsteps, but also _voices_. Not a voice, but _voices_. None of them sounded remotely familiar, and they were far too quiet to be Rin’s men. Haru felt cold sweat begin to form on his forehead, and he wiped it away with a shaky hand. “ _Why am I so scared?_ ” he thought to himself as the hushed voices drew closer. “ _The worse they can do is kill me, and that wouldn’t even be half bad._ ”

 

Haru searched himself for an answer, unable to find the exact reason as to why he was shaking. Maybe he was afraid they’d torture him, put him back on the streets, or worse, they’d give him back to-

 

 _“That’s it_ ,” Haru realized, as the thought sent a fresh wave of icy fear over his body. He was scared, terrified of being brought back to _him_. Rin was one thing, but Haru would choose Rin over him any day. All the years of abuse and alcohol and drugs came flooding back to Haru as if a dam had been opened deep within his mind.

 

“He’s come for me.” Haru whispered to himself, as if to make the thought official. He began to panic, searching around the room for a way out, for an escape.

 

Haru ran away from the door towards the cracked window. Looking out into the darkness, he could make out the faint outline of the fire escape a few feet below the window, but _fuck_ , was he high up. Haru gulped, looking down at the street far below, where the street lamps looked like shiny, silver nickels. “ _If that’s what it takes,_ ” he thought and began prying the screen of the window in a panic.

 

He had half of it off when the door shook, and he whipped around. There was a moment of silence in which Haru had thought it had just been his imagination, but then it shook again, and again, as if someone was kicking it in.

 

His hands were clammy and it made it hard to grasp the clasp of the hook, only making Haru’s movements clumsier as he became more and more flustered.

 

“Come on, _come on!_ ” he hissed through his teeth, the hook refusing to move. The shaking grew louder, so Haru gave up on using his hands, stood up, and began to kick the screen of the window. It hurt like _hell_ , but it was better than trying to use slimy hands on a rusted hook.

 

With a loud rip, Haru had managed to make a nice foot sized hole; at the same time, the door was bust wide open, bits of fine wood spraying the carpet. He ground his teeth and tried to widen the hole with his hands, the sharp wire pricking them.

 

The yells of the men outside were louder, alarming the others “ _He’s in here!_ ” and then the door flew open, several men in midnight black suits rushing in towards Haru.

 

“NO!” Haru screamed and clutched to the windowsill desperately, as the men grabbed his body and yanked, trying to pry him away from his only escape. His heart was fast, erratic, and he felt like a bunny surrounded by a group of hungry fox.

 

He felt despair begin to crush him, and everything seemed to go in slow motion. His hands were ripped from the white wood of the windowsill and tied behind his back with a thick rope that burned his wrists. Haru thrashed his head as the men tried to cover his mouth with a sick smelling cloth. One of the men forcefully grabbed his jaw and held him still, the cloth’s toxic scent invading his mouth and nostrils.

 

“ _Not like this,_ ” he pleaded silently, feeling something warm roll down from his eye. He felt another, then another, and realized he was crying. Haru hadn’t cried in _years_.The tears were soaked up by the very cloth that was suffocating him, and he his vision began to fade away.

 

Before he lost consciousness though, he caught sight of a pair of very wicked, very cruel, teal eyes.

 

**

 

Haru drifted in and out of consciousness for a while. Sometimes he would hear the muffled voices of men, and sometimes he would hear nothing at all. He could feel his body bouncing in a rhythm, as if he were being carried. He would black out again only to wake up to the calming rumbling of a car engine, and then it would be silent.

 

After some time, Haru finally began to come back to reality. He could feel fine silk covering his eyes, and he had a sneaking suspicious that he was blindfolded. When he cracked open one eye, his suspicion was confirmed; all he saw was darkness.

 

A few moments after fully regaining himself, the panic set in. Haru felt sick to his stomach and could hear each sickening _thump_ of his heart. His loss of sight heightened his hearing, and he could pick out the murmuring of men on all sides of him.

 

“ _Shit,_ ” he thought, running his tongue over his dry lips. “ _what do I do?_

 

He was sitting in what felt like a wooden chair; the seat was hard and uncomfortable for Haru, who was only clothed in a white undershirt and blue pajama pants. He felt _way_ too exposed, the thought only increasing his heart rate and causing his breathing to become short, painful intakes of air. When he tried to take the blindfold off, he discovered that his hands were bound as well. He didn’t even want to test his feet.

 

Out of ideas, Haru was now desperate. What if they really had taken him back?

 

Would anyone even _try_ to come and save him?

 

“Let me go…!” his voice was hoarse and didn’t sound quite as intimidating as he wished, yet the crowd of voices around him hushed, surprised.

 

“Someone go get Tachibana-sama. Tell him that he’s awake.” Haru’s heart, which was beating so fast, seemed to stop completely.

 

 _“Tachibana-sama?_ ” he thought. _“Why does that sound so familiar?_ ”

 

He wracked his brains, trying to find the source of the name. Tachibana… Tachibana… _Tachibana_ … yet nothing could come to mind. It was on the tip of his tongue, too!

 

Frustrated, he flipped his head back and let out a sigh. There was no more chatter in the room; everyone seemed to be too interested in him.

 

He could feel the goosebumps on his arms when they rubbed against each other. Not only because it was _freezing_ where he was, but he was terrified. If he really had been returned, then there was no doubt about it. His life will be over. Literally.

 

There was the sound of an iron door (Haru guessed, he still couldn’t see) and the clacking of expensive shoes. He could feel the shirt stick to his back; the result of the cold sweat that had drenched his entire body. Haru heard what seemed to be two people enter the room, and the iron door was shut again. It was silent, save for Haru’s rugged breaths.

 

“Is he hurt?” the voice split the silence like a knife, and Haru felt his stomach lurch.

 

“…Only with self-inflicted wounds, Oyassan. He injured his foot trying to escape and there were some puncture wounds on his hands. It’s been taken care of.” A voice said behind Haru, and he would’ve swiveled around if not for his binds.

 

“Good. Nice work, everyone.” Suddenly, Haru felt as if he had been electrocuted, and he was wide awake.

 

That deep tenor voice. He remembers now, the soft green of his eyes that danced in and out of his dreams at night.

 

Haru can’t believe he had forgotten so quickly.

 

“Makoto…?” he croaked out, throat burning. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet ten degrees and was wrapped in complete silence once more.

 

“T-take it off. The blindfold, get it off him. Now.” The words sounded strangled, as if something was stuck in his throat. Even though it was said, several seconds passed and no one had made the move to remove the blindfold, which was starting to itch Haru’s head.

 

“I said _now_!” he growled menacingly, no longer sounding as if he were choking- more like he was ready to start choking someone. There was a scurry of movement and the blindfold was ripped off of Haru in mere seconds. Blinding fluorescent lights lit up Haru’s vision, and he felt tears form in his eyes.

 

He lowered his head to shield them from the blinding glare. “ _Do I even want to look up…?_ ” He thought to himself, blinking. The floor was grey stone, and Haru could see his left foot was bandaged. Now that it was in his sight, he could feel it start to throb painfully.

 

“Nanase-san.” The voice which had been so evilly harsh moments ago was now a soft whisper, and it would be a crime if Haru didn’t look up to it.

 

There he was. The man he had met only days ago, now smiling in front of him as not a visitor, but as his captor. Haru looked around, taking in the dark walls of what seemed to be a cell. He was in the middle of the room it seemed, so he couldn’t get the layout very well. It felt like an oubliette.

 

“ _Well,_ ” He sighed to himself, feeling a sudden wave of relief wash over him. “ _Could’ve be worse._ ”

 

“Nanase-san… how do you know my name?” Makoto asked, crouching down to squat in front of Haru. He was _very_ close, so close that Haru could feel his breath fan across his cheeks. He was about to open his mouth when a voice behind Makoto interrupted.

 

“Boss, sorry, may I explain to Nanase why he’s here? He has a right to know.” Haru leaned around to see who had spoken, and froze.

 

Teal. Deep, scorching pools of teal.

 

His eyes burned through Haru’s and he could feel practically _feel_ the hatred raking over his skin, peeling it off, similar to how you’d skin an apple. Makoto looked at him, then at Haru, and nodded cautiously. He stood, and moved away.

 

“ _No,_ ” he wanted to say as panic rose in his throat. “ _Don’t let him near me. Don’t make him say it._ ”

 

Teal-guy had a smile on his lips, but there was no evidence of _any_ kindness in his eyes.

 

“Well, _Nanase_ ,” he began, brushing past Makoto and drawing closer to Haru. “you’re here as a… hmm, how should I put this…” his smile was cruel, obviously getting pleasure out of doing this to Haru. “ you’re our bartering chip. We’re using you to get the hotel your boss owns, and then we’ll give you back. Capisce?”

 

Haru was looking intently at the shiny tile floor. He could feel the anger bubbling in his stomach. “ _All I ever am is a toy to toss around. I’m not going to be a pawn again. No fuckin’ way. Not anymore_.” He decided to himself, clenching his jaw. He didn’t want to submit to this guy- no way in hell. There was a frustrated sigh, and he felt his cheeks burn as they were taken into a rough, calloused hand. Looking up into the very eyes that scorned him, he frowned. Who does this guy think he is?

 

“I _said_ , capisce?” he repeated, barking his hot breath into Haru’s face. It stank of sake and it was making Haru dizzy.

 

So, Haru did the only thing he could to make him back off.

 

He gathered up all the saliva in his mouth, and spit right in his face.

 

There was a collective gasp when the spit landed right inbetween his eyes. The look on the man’s face was _priceless_ , somewhere between shock and anger; if Haru had had a camera, he would’ve taken _at least_ fifty pictures.

 

“So,” his voice was nothing more than a rumbling whisper as he backed away from Haru, retreating towards Makoto.  He did not look at Haru, rather he looked at anything _but_ Haru. “this kitty’s got claws.”

 

“Hmm. Seems so, Yamazaki. You better watch yourself.” Makoto chided as the man called ‘Yamazaki’ wiped the spit off of his face with the back of his sleeve, cursing silently. Haru was so busy reveling in his triumph that he didn’t even notice Makoto had gotten close to him again, his face a mere 5 inches away from his own.

 

He was startled when Makoto brought a hand up and swiped his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, and whoa, Haru’s cheeks were on _fire_.

 

“You had some spit on your lip, kitten.” Makoto mumbled into Haru’s ear before drawing away again, turning his back to him. Haru contemplated setting himself on fire, because surely it would be much better than what he was experiencing right now. No one had made him blush like this in… well, _forever_. He tried to speak back to Makoto, but ended up just opening and closing his mouth like a fish gasping for water.

 

“Untie him and bring him a meal. He needs rest.” Makoto was back into his scary-boss mode as he gave the orders to his men in the room, no indication whatsoever that he had just very nearly made Haru die of embarrassment. He was really, really wishing his hands were untied so he could strangle himself.

 

“Nanase-san, I’ll be back to talk to you later.” Was the last thing Makoto said before walking out the door, followed by Yamazaki-who still seemed pissed he had gotten spit on his suit-. Haru let out a huge breathe, not realizing he had been holding it in. While the men around him moved to untie him and prepare the room, he was lost in thought.

 

They were using him as some sort of ransom? For that shitty hotel?

 

No, that can’t be true. He didn’t believe it, not one bit.

 

But… what other reason would they have to hold him captive? What would happen to him? What would R-

 

“Hah!”

 

The laugh escaped Haru’s mouth before he had a chance to choke it down. The yakuza working in the room all turned to him slowly, with confused looks on their face. He cleared his throat and looked down at his ankle, trying to avoid the stares that seemed to be asking ‘ _Has he gone crazy_?’

 

Rin will surely throw a shit fit when he gets back to the hotel and finds Haru gone. More than a shit fit- he’ll go on a full on murderous _rampage_. Oh, how Haru would pay to see Rin knocking his men’s heads together whilst throwing a tantrum. Just thinking about it had made him laugh aloud; it also got him thinking, _Maybe they just want to see Rin upset_? His giddy feeling was soon replaced with dread as he remembered what Rin had told him: _you belong to me_.

 

That’s right- what was Haru going to do? He owed Rin with his life, and if he did not get back to him _as soon as humanly possible_ , he might be shouldered with some blame. Haru could not repay Rin of his debt while he was tied up here, prisoner to a foreign group in unfamiliar territory.

 

A yakuza came up behind him and cut the ropes that had tied his hands together, and Haru rubbed the red, raw skin. He didn’t get up quite yet, scared he’d be hurt if he tried to stand. Slowly but surely, the men in the room began to file out the doorway, and the last one out turned and shut the door with a loud _clang_ , leaving Haru in the cold room, alone.

 

“Well,” he sighed to himself, tugging the bandages on his foot. “I have a lot more than 3 hours of free time, now.”

 

** - **

 

Makoto’s walk was brisk as he left the building that held Haruka. He knew Sousuke was trying to catch up to him, to _reprimand_ his behavior. “ _He’s a prisoner,_ ” he’d say. “ _They don’t get ‘meals’. They don’t get to be ‘untied’.”_

“Boss! Slow down, Jesus! You got somewhere to be?” Makoto rolled his eyes as Sousuke walked up beside him, straightening his tie.

 

“What, Yamazaki? Do you wish to _escort_ me to my room?” his tone was mocking, and he knew it. Makoto didn’t really know why he was pissed- scratch that, _yes he did._

 

Walking into that damp cell and seeing Nanase tied up like a hog was disgusting. His foot was obviously sprained from what he had heard, yet it had been tied with a measly piece of cloth. As for his hands, _puncture wounds_? What a joke. They were all cut and scraped, bandaged by _Hello fucking Kitty Band-Aids_. He almost lost it right then and there.

 

Haruka was innocent, he had done nothing to this group and therefore should not be treated as a prisoner. People who had messed with the Bell Orca’s or had gotten into trouble with them were treated that way, not innocent men with –if Makoto does say himself- _dazzling_ blue eyes.

 

“No, boss. I need to ask you a serious question.” Sousuke sounded serious, and he probably was, but Makoto looked on straight ahead, waving a hand in Sousuke’s direction.

 

“By all means, fire away.”

 

“Do you really plan on letting this kid go? Like, for good, I mean. Giving him to Matsuoka and never seeing him again.” Sousuke paused, sensing he had struck a chord, and tried to joke a bit. “Because, if we’re keepin’ him, I should get Ryuuhou on the line to tat him up with our insignia.”

 

There was a sudden, chilly breeze that made Makoto shiver. He wasn’t going to lie, that question had caught him off guard, and sent him spiraling into doubt. _Was_ he willing to let him go?

 

“ _I guess we’ll have to wait and see. I could end up hating him for all I know,_ ” he thought; he knew it was a lie the second it entered his brain, though.

 

“Of course I’m planning to let him go. That’s why we got him in the first place, stupid.” He chuckled, trying to hide the conflicting emotions inside of him.

 

“Hahh. I guess you’re right. Sorry, boss.” Sousuke sighed, sticking his hands in his pockets to protect them from the chill. It was quiet as they walked to the main building, the only sound coming from the occasional gust of wind that send leaves scattering across the pavement of the road.

 

“He reminds me of a bird.” Makoto said suddenly, causing Sousuke to stop dead in his tracks. The idea just popped into his head, really, and he couldn’t help but say it out loud.

 

“…What?” Sousuke’s voice was evidence that he was baffled, so Makoto stopped and turned to him. As expected, he wore an absolutely perplexed look. He laughed a bit before trying to explain.

 

“Haruka reminds me of a bird. More specifically, a Nightingale.” Sousuke raised a hand to interrupt, but Makoto beat him to it. “Nightingale’s are referred to as a sign of a good omen, yet are associated with ‘a cry for help from a soul in purgatory.’”

 

“…Purgatory?” Sousuke asked, voice raising as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

 

“Y’know, when you die and you’re not good enough to get into heaven, but you’re not shitty enough to get into hell? Purgatory. Place for lost souls. ” Makoto stated, matter-of-factly.

 

“Okay… go on…?”

 

Makoto chuckled at Sousuke’s discomfort. “Their song can refer to love and longing, but it can also be a sign of warning or impending death. What I’m trying to say is, this thing with Nanase will either completely fuck m- _us_ over, or get us some new property. That’s all.”

 

Sousuke stared at Makoto, jaw slightly slack. “Why do you know so much about fucking _bird_ symbolism, boss?”

 

“Everyone has a hobby, Yamazaki. Ah, although, I guess I’d say he’s more of a cat than a bird, don’t you think?” He laughed, turning around and beginning to walk back.

 

What Makoto had told Sousuke was true; Nightingale’s were a symbol of equal opportunity-you fail or you win. Love or lose. Live or die.

 

What he hadn’t mentioned though, is that Nightingale’s were also a symbol of change. Transformation. _Rebirth_.

 

Makoto thought that maybe, just _maybe_ , this Nightingale of his would exempt him of his sins, and let him become something that he hasn’t been in a very long time: _free_.

 

**

 

It was late, or early, maybe. Makoto didn’t know what to call it. His watch read 5:03AM, indicating it had been roughly two and a half hours since Haruka had gotten here. He was currently on his way to Haruka’s cell, walking in the crisp morning air as the sun began to peek over the rolling hills far in the distance. Makoto was visiting him because, first and foremost, he wanted to make sure that he was alright. And secondly, he wanted answers from him; Makoto had a lot of questions.

The men on guard bowed to him as he walked through the doors of the so called ‘prison building’ and down the hallway. If Makoto had never been here before, he’d say that this was an apartment unit, or something like that. Beyond the innocent wooden doors though, lay things that would probably be considered illegal to even touch.

 

He walked down a flight of stairs into the basement, where the most protected cells were. This is usually where they kept high ranking members from other syndicates, or violent brutes who could easily break down a regular door. Why they had put Haruka down here, he didn’t know.

 

Makoto stopped at the third door down, pausing a moment to listen for any sounds inside. He looked down at the first aid kit he had in his hands and sighed; if he were caught doing this, people would think he’d gone soft.

 

Maybe he had. He doesn’t really know.

 

Taking a pair of keys from his pants pocket, he opened the door with a soft _click_. The iron made an unpleasant creaking noise as it opened, revealing a dimly lit cell. Makoto could see his breath come out of his mouth like cigar smoke, and he frowned. It is _not_ supposed to be this cold in the cells.

 

“What are you doing here?” a cracked voice rang out, snapping Makoto out of his thoughts about the temperature. It was Haruka, who was curled on the cot in the corner with a blanket tightly wrapped around him. He was shivering violently, but was trying to control it, only making it worse.

 

“Nanase-san, I’m going to fix the bandages they gave you.” He said, shutting the door and stepped closer to Haruka. As he got near the bed, Haruka flinched back, pressing himself tightly against the wall. Makoto felt his heart clench.

 

“No, no I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” He tried to reassure Haruka, but was only met with a hard glare, provided by those enticing blue eyes.

 

“Then why do you have me here?” He mumbled, drawing the blankets tighter around himself.

 

“Well, it’s-“

 

“Why did you put me in a room that’s below freezing with only a sheer cloth blanket? Why did you have your men come and _rip_ me from my home?”

 

Makoto was stunned. “That hotel is what you consider home, Nanase-san?”

 

Haruka turned his head, staring off to the side. Makoto took his silence as a _no_ , and sighed.

 

“I think it’d be much easier to explain to you if you were… comfortable.” Makoto said, kneeling down at the foot of the cot. He shot Makoto a look that read “ _You think so?_ ” and he chuckled. He noticed that Haruka’s lips had turned the slightest shade of blue, and he could see his jaw bouncing from the cold.

 

“Nanase-san. Come with me, please.” He rose and walked over in front of Haruka, who had slowly inched away from the wall. If he was going to talk with him, Makoto wanted them both to be focused rather than freezing their asses off.

 

“Where?”

 

“My room.” The second the words left Makoto’s mouth, he became embarrassed. “ _Oh, fuck.”_ He sulked to himself. _“I probably sound like a pervert… then again, I probably am for doing this in the first place,_ ”

 

Makoto was surprised when Haruka scooted to the edge of the bed, taken aback by his eagerness.

 

“Alright.” He deadpanned, and stood. The second he was on his feet though, he gave way, a painful expression zipping across his face. Makoto quickly grabbed Haruka’s shoulders and held him upright; he didn’t want him on his chest because… well, if he were to hear how fast his heart was beating, he’d be labeled a fool instead of a yakuza boss.

 

“Oh, Nanase-san… your foot. You can’t walk.” Makoto sighed, glancing down at the bandage loosely tied around Haruka’s foot. It looked a bit swollen, and the wrap was unraveling. He stored a thought in the back of his mind, telling himself to remember to give lessons on first aid to the recruits.

 

“It’s fine. I can walk.” Haruka urged, pushing Makoto away only to stumble again, and was caught by Makoto… again.

 

“No, you’re not fine. Let me carry you.”

 

“Wai-!”

 

Before Haruka had time to protest, Makoto had scooped him up in his arms, blanket, first aid kit, and all. Makoto hadn’t even thought about it, he just sort of… _did_ it.

 

Somehow he managed to get the door open, putting the keys in his pocket for later-though he knew he would _not_ make Haruka stay in that room again- and began the journey upwards.

 

Makoto didn’t know why he was being so _kind_. With anyone else, he probably would’ve enjoyed watching them shiver in some smelly cell; yet he could barely watch Haruka do it. He probably would’ve never even considered carrying a prisoner either, let alone carrying a prisoner _to his room_. Yes, he knew he wanted Nanase-so bad it _hurts_ \- but he didn’t understand why Nanase was making him act like this.

 

Makoto had known the moment he saw him, Haruka had awakened something inside of him; the problem was he didn’t know _what_. Makoto had never really been in love before, and he _definitely_ did not believe in love at first sight. He barely even believed he could fall in love now, with the way he was. So naturally he couldn’t place the feeling deep inside his chest. It wasn’t anger, it wasn’t hate- those burned Makoto up inside and left him feeling empty. This feeling left him full, feeling as if he could walk on air.

 

It was rather embarrassing for him, really.

 

He adjusted a grumbling Haruka and pushed open the doors leading out into the dawn’s light. The men on guard were switching right now, giving Makoto time to take Haruka to his room without notice- he’d just have to be sure to call and tell someone he had Nanase, and that he had not in fact escaped.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Haruka mumbled, clutching the blanket tighter around himself. Makoto smiled, glancing down at him.

 

“Would you believe me if I said I was just asking myself the same question?”

 

He didn’t say anything else as the main building came into view, all the glass windows reflecting the sun and lighting up the entire compound. Makoto could feel Haruka shivering in his arms, but not as bad as it was before.

 

When they entered the building, the lobby was empty. Most of the higher ranking men would come out early, six or seven maybe, and the rest would come out at eight or nine; he should be safe from prying eyes, either way.

 

When they approached the elevator, Makoto shifted Haru’s weight into his left hand in order to press the button, and he caught Haruka of guard. Probably guessing Makoto was going to drop him, he yelped and threw his arms around Makoto’s neck, the blanket falling from his shoulders as he buried his face into his jacket. Makoto took a sharp gasp of breath at the feeling of Haruka’s nails digging into the nape of his neck.

 

“N-Nanase-san. I’m not going to drop you…” he muttered into Haruka’s ear, but he would not raise his head from Makoto’s shoulder. He sighed, trying to shift all of his weight into his own left arm. Makoto silently thanked himself for remembering to work out regularly, as Haruka wasn’t necessarily heavy, but he wasn’t necessarily light either.

 

Bringing up his free hand, he gently pulled Haruka’s head back from his shoulder, and the sight before him almost made Makoto drop him for real this time.

 

Haruka’s cheeks were flushed an intoxicating shade of pink, and he refused to look at Makoto, gaze trained downwards towards the shiny tile.

 

“Oh,” Makoto squeaked. He stood there in front of the elevator, trying to reconnect his scrambled brain; he couldn’t get over how fucking _cute_ he looked.

 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, loosening his grip on Makoto’s neck, but he quickly shook his head in protest and pressed the elevator button.

 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s easier if you do that, anyway.” The elevator door slid open and Makoto walked inside, pressing the top floor button.

 

The ride up was shrouded in silence. Makoto could feel Haruka’s heart, fast timid beats resonating inside of his chest. He closed his eyes and sighed, letting out a deep breath. “ _Control yourself, Makoto_ ” he thought.

 

When the doors slid open he quickly rushed out into the hall and approached his door, fumbling with the key inside of his pocket. With some struggle, he managed to get the door open and quickly went inside, kicking off his shoes in a disorderly fashion. His arms were starting to ache a bit despite how lithe Haruka was, so he set him on the couch in the living room, putting the first aid kit on the coffee table. He still refused to meet Makoto’s eyes, and was now picking at some loose string of his shirt.

 

“I’ll be right back, alright?” Makoto broke the silence, and Haru gave a small nod of his head. Before retreating to his room, he locked the door and pulled his phone from his jacket. Hitting #1 on his speed dial, he held the phone up to his ear.

 

“Boss? Are you alright?” Sousuke picked up on the second ring, sounding worried. Makoto cleared his throat a bit.

 

“ _I don’t know,_ ” he wanted to say, but that would raise too much suspicion- well, more so than there is already. But it was true, he didn’t know if he was alright. A man he was _very_ attracted to was in his room right now, completely vulnerable. Said man was currently causing Makoto _extreme_ discomfort by making Makoto’s head a mess. Really, _he_ felt like the vulnerable one in this situation.

 

“Yes, Yamazaki. I’m fine,” he said, trying his best to sound normal. Sousuke sigh was crackled over the phone, but it was still obvious that he was relieved.

 

“Then what’s up?” Makoto gulped as he shrugged off his suit jacket and rolled up his dress shirt sleeves. _“Oh, nothing. Just calling to tell you I have Nanase in my room and I have no idea what the fucking hell I’m doing with my life anymore. So attracted to this guy I think I might throw up. Beating myself up for being a complete creep for taking him. You know, the usual_.”

 

“Ah, just calling to tell you that Nanase is in my care right now, so alert the guards who are supposed to be watching him.”

 

Sousuke didn’t answer right away. Makoto thought for a moment that it would just be better to tell Sousuke to just come and kill him, because this was getting ridiculous. Makoto wasn’t some horny teenager anymore and shouldn’t be acting this irresponsibly. He had a damn yakuza group to run!

 

“…Why do you have Nanase?”

 

“I’m interrogating him…?”

 

More silence followed Makoto’s unsure answer. He had a really, _really_ good feeling that Sousuke knew exactly what he was up to.  If Sousuke in fact did though, he didn’t say it.

 

“Alright boss. I’ll tell everyone you’re busy.” He sounded normal, but Makoto could pick out the tiniest cracks in his voice. “ _I am going to get absolute hell for this,_” he thought as he said goodbye to Sousuke and hung up, tossing the phone onto his nightstand.

 

Taking a few calming breaths, he walked back out to the living room where Haruka was seated on the couch, picking off the Band-Aids on his hand. When he heard Makoto approaching, he looked up and gave a tiny, awkward smile before looking down again.

 

“Okay, Nanase-san,” Makoto said, sitting down of the coffee table across from where Haru sat on the couch. “let me see your ankle.”

 

Hesitantly, Haru raised his ankle up, causing his pajama pants to slide up to his knees. Makoto tried to ignore the pale, soft flesh of his calf while taking it carefully in his hands and resting his foot in his lap. He then began to slowly unwind the remaining bandage, revealing Haruka’s swollen ankle.

 

“I know I asked before,” Haruka mumbled suddenly, causing Makoto to jump a bit and jostle Haruka’s ankle. Makoto began to apologize, but Haruka stopped him. “but… why are you doing this for me? I’m just a tool. It doesn’t matter if I’m broken, right?”

 

Makoto’s hands froze as he reached to get wrap from the kit. In any other circumstance, Haruka would’ve been right. Makoto wouldn’t have cared if a prisoner had a broken rib or a concussion, he wouldn’t even care if they were on their deathbed so long as Makoto was getting what he wanted. But, how was he supposed to say this to Haruka? _“Look, I know you don’t even know me and I kind of kidnapped you but I really care about you”_?

 

“That’s not true, Nanase-san. If we hurt you, I think Matsuoka-san will be very displeased.” He stated, and began wrapping Haruka’s ankle properly.

 

Haruka gave a hollow laugh, and Makoto looked up, confused. His eyes were dark, and he wore a bitter expression.

 

“I don’t think he’d care as long as he got me back in one piece.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

Haruka looked at Makoto, as if he were analyzing him. Makoto could feel his deep blue eyes dissecting him piece by piece.

 

“You wouldn’t understand.” The words were cold, they didn’t match well with Haruka’s soft voice. Makoto raised an eyebrow at him, surprised by the sudden change of attitude.

 

“Then make me understand.” He answered, tying off the wrap maybe just a _tad_ too tight. Haruka visibly flinched, but did not show any signs that he was ready to give in to Makoto.

 

“It’s a long story.”

 

Makoto laughed, amused. “Nanase-san,” he exclaimed. “we have all day.”

 

Haruka once again searched Makoto with his eyes before letting out a long, breathy sigh.

 

“Where do I start?” he asked, as Makoto set is ankle gently on the floor and scooted closer to him, now beginning to bandage his hands. They weren’t all that bad, but they’d definitely become infected if not taken care of.

 

“How did you end up with Matsuoka-san?” When Makoto said that, Haruka lowered his head. As Makoto took his hand in his own, he could feel Haruka shaking, despite the room being comfortably warm.

 

“I actually grew up in this town, believe it or not. My parents enrolled me in online school, though. I was never good with other people.” He took a shaky breath as Makoto cleaned his wounded hand, listening intently. “They were good to me. Not really the loving parents everyone hopes for, but still, it was suffice.”

 

“When I was seventeen, my parents left to work overseas. Even though I had always thought of myself as alone, this time it was for real. Not having any supervision, I started going out late at night and hanging with people on the streets- bad people. Not soon after was I doing hardcore drugs almost every night and drinking so much I would pass out. I was a wreck.” He paused, but Makoto didn’t say anything. He remained silent, letting Haruka take his time.

 

“One night, I got into a fight with some big guy all clad up in a fancy suit and shit. I was completely annihilated and was slurring so bad, that I’m surprised the guy understood me when I was yelling at him.” Haruka laughed and empty, painful laugh. “I ended up breaking his watch or something, I can’t even remember, but he knocked me out and I woke up in a dark room in a big pink bed. I can still remember the smell.” Haruka was trembling all over, and it pained Makoto to watch. He lightly squeezed Haruka’s newly bandaged hand before moving on to the next one.

 

“A man came in... with bright pink hair… like a big wad of bubblegum. He told me in order to pay for his lackey’s watch, I had to work for him. I was like ‘alright, whatever,’ but…” Haruka gulped before resuming. “He was… he owned a brothel in the next town over. The guy whose watch I b-broke took me there and… I had to work at the brothel. To pay f-or it. The watch.”

 

Makoto was stunned. He never would’ve guessed that this innocent looking man could come from such an awful background. He felt like someone was pricking his heart with a needle. Makoto didn’t like the feeling, but it was familiar in a way.

 

Was he actually feeling… _pity_? _Was Makoto actually feeling sorry for someone_?

 

“What did they do to you, Nanase?” He whispered, rubbing Haruka’s bandaged hands between his own. Haruka smiled sadly, looking down at his and Makoto’s hands.

 

“I wasn’t available to common clients. I was… _reserved_ for ‘VIP’s’. You know, officials. Mob bosses. But that isn’t even the worst of it.” His voice grew lower, as if he were telling a secret. “The owner of the brothel used me the most. I was beaten, abused, whatever you want to call it. It went on for three years before I finally couldn’t take it anymore, and I ran away.”

 

“When I got back on the streets, I ran. I didn’t know where I was going, but I just ran. I knew that the owner would be hot on my trail, so I kept moving. Before long, I had gotten involved with drugs again, and I can remember it so clearly despite how high I was.” He turned his hands over in Makoto’s, looking at his scraped palms. “I was laying there, staring up at the sky. Normally, you’d never be able to see the stars, but that night, I swear, there were millions. I was aware that I had severely overdosed on whatever pills I had taken, and I was aware that I was going to die.” He curled his hands into fists, squeezing so hard that his knuckles turned white. Makoto didn’t know how to comfort him, so he just drew circles on the back of his hands where the bandages did not reach.

 

“I wasn’t ready to die. Everything I had done in my life came crashing down on me and I knew that there had to be more, more than just pointless suffering. So I started to yell. I cried out ‘help’ over and over, but no one came. Just as I had begun to lose hope though, I was surrounded by several people and was picked up, put in a car, and that’s when I blacked out. When I woke up I was in a hospital bed, and Rin- sorry, Matsuoka was sitting next to me.” Makoto glanced up at Haruka, trying to see the expression on his face. He was looking out the big window at the rising orange sun, painting his face with a soft light.

 

“He told me that he had saved me because he found me _interesting_. But, he said, my life came with a price. Because he had gone out of his way to rescue me, I was now indebted to him. I had to pay him with my body. My soul. Everything.” He finished, eyes shining. “And here we are.”

 

Makoto released Haruka’s hands, drawing his own into his lap. He was too stunned to offer any condolences, but he doesn’t think that Haruka is looking for pity. He’s simply saying, ‘ _and that’s that_ ’.

 

“Nanase-san, do you like him? Matsuoka, I mean.” Makoto asked, and Haruka turned to face him. Tears were welled up in his eyes, though it looked as if he were fighting to keep them in.

 

“Of course I don’t. He treats me like a toy. Everyone has; that’s all I was, and that’s all I am. A pawn in a game of chess I don’t want any part of.” He sniffles, scrubbing his eyes with a hand.

 

“I don’t think of you as a toy, Haruka.” Makoto softly mumbles, and Haruka’s eyes widen almost impossibly large. _“Shit,_ ” Makoto thought. “ _I’ve done it now, he’s goi-_ “

 

“Prove it.”

 

Makoto was suddenly knocked on his back, sprawled against the coffee table with Haruka hovering above him. He feels as if all the air is being sucked out of his lungs as he stares into Nanase’s bright, electric eyes, shining wetly with not sadness, but _lust_.

 

“N-Nanase-san, you’re hurt-“

 

“None of those men ever made me feel anything except disgust and hatred, because I was being _used_. _Make me feel something, Makoto."_ He said, tone edging on the border of sexy and  _wanton_. "Show me that you mean it. That I’m not just another fucktoy.”

 

The look in Haruka’s eyes has Makoto’s whole body searing with a blistering heat.

 

“Nanase, if you don’t stop this, I’m not going to be able to control myself.” Makoto’s voice is low as he put a hand to Haruka’s chest and shoves him backwards, sending him stumbling into the couch. In no time at all, Makoto is poised over his slim body, arched like a cobra ready to strike- their positions switched. There’s a fire in Haruka’s eyes, a blue, burning fire and Makoto _can’t get enough of it_.

 

“Good.” Haruka gasps, grabbing onto Makoto’s loose tie. “Lose control.”

 

Makoto feels as if a switch inside of him has been flipped, and he couldn’t stop himself from crashing his lips into Haruka’s. He sucked harshly on Haruka’s lower lip, nipping at it as the dark haired boy whined into the searing kiss, biting back. Makoto ran his hands along Haruka’s side, and when he swiped his thumb over his nipple through his soft undershirt, he _honest to god_ _mewls_ , allowing Makoto to roughly shove his tongue inside his mouth, exploring the vast cavern.

 

“Bedroom,” Haruka pants desperately inbetween wet, sloppy, rough kisses, slurring his words when Makoto won’t release his lips. He began to feel a burning arousal in his lower abdomen as Haruka gazed at him with dark eyes and red, swollen lips.

 

Makoto grins, nodding as he devours Haruka’s lips with his own once more.

 

That was the best idea he’d heard all day.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I AM THE WORST HUMAN BEING FOR ENDING IT RIGHT WHEN THEY'RE ABOUT TO GET DOWN TO BUSINESS JUST HEAR ME OUT  
>  **NO** i am not skipping over their first time!! i am writing it in (probably too much) detail!! so don't worry that you're not going to get your fill of smut because you are. trust me.
> 
> this chapter is close to 8k words and I didn't want to overwhelm any of you with a ridiculously long chapter  
> PLUS I need time to plan out next chapter because _things are going to get dirty_  
>  plz don't hate me too much.
> 
> hit me up at otomeflakes.tumblr.com or leave a comment telling me what an awful human being I am for doing this to you
> 
> *happy birthday makoto!*


	4. Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Haruka is Makoto’s fire, warming him and saving him from the frozen tundra that is his soul._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aka smut

“Royal flush. I win a-ga-in!”

 

Rin threw his cards out onto the table, scattering them in front of everyone. There was a collective groan as he threw his arms around the ginormous chip pile, raking them to his side of the table.

 

“Ahh, Matsuoka-sama, that’s _twenty-one_ times now! Can we actually start the meeting?”

 

Rin and some of his right-hand men were sitting around a conference table, currently knee-deep in a furious poker competition. The score was Rin-21, other-0, much to his men’s chagrin. They were supposed to be conducting a meeting on the situation with the territory line, but when Rin had spotted a poker kit in the closet, he could not be stopped. It was now 1:23AM, and the poker war had been going on for about an hour.

 

“I’m sorry, Saeki,” he grinned, caressing his vast pile of chips, “but you don’t need to be such a sore loser about it. Let’s go again.”

 

There was another group groan from his men as Rin pushed all the chips back into the middle, and started to shuffle the cards. He hummed happily and took a sip of fireball whisky- his favorite. As the hot liquid made its way down his throat, the door suddenly banged open, alarming Rin and causing a little too much of the alcohol to make its way into his mouth.

 

“M-Matsuoka-sama! Bad news!” the yakuza was frantic as he stumbled into the room. He had a black eye and his clothes were disheveled; Rin could barely make him out, though. His eyes were watering so bad he could barely see.

 

“What the fuck is it?” he gasped, clutching his side as the burning sensation slowly made its way down from his chest to his belly. He glared at the man and rubbed his eyes, trying to regain his vision.

 

“They attacked! T-The Orca’s, they attacked the hotel and-“

 

Rin was up from the chair faster than you could say _poker_. He grabbed the yakuza by his ruffled collar and shoved him against the wall, _hard_ , and growled. The burning sensation in his chest was not from the alcohol, now.

 

“Is Haru alright?” spit landed on the man’s face as he trembled, avoiding his boss’s eyes. The men in the room could feel the aura of fury which enveloped Rin, causing them all to scoot back a few feet in their chairs.

 

“M-Matsuoka-sama, please forgive me! T-hey incapacitated us and took hi- _hnng!_ ”

 

The onlookers watched in horror as the man slowly slid down the wall and onto his knees, holding his abdomen where a deep, crimson red was blooming across his lower shirt like fire. His eyes were opened wide in shock, tears spilling out of his eyes. Rin stood with his back to the men, who were all now pressed against the wall. The man at Rin’s feet let out a choked splutter of blood, which sounded somewhat like a _sorry_ , before falling silent.

 

“Saeki.” Rin said quietly, yet the malice in his voice was undeniable. Saeki stepped forward from the wall of men, standing as straight as he could despite feeling as if he might faint.

 

Rin turned around, shutting the pocket knife with a snap, and put it into his pocket. The usual bright red of his eyes were gone, replaced by a sinister burgundy which seemed to pierce straight into the souls of each and every person in the room.

 

“Yes, sir!”

 

“Get me back to HQ. Right now.”

 

“Y-yes, sir!”

 

The men began to move, some going to drag the body of their comrade from the room, others flying out the door to ready the cars and alert other members that Rin was probably going to kill them all, and they should say their prayers before it’s too late.

 

Rin got into the car and the driver took off right away, avoiding eye contact in fear that he’d turn to stone if Rin so much as glanced at him.

 

He was doing all he could to control himself. “ _Breathe, Rin_.” He thought to himself, trying to push down the scream building in his throat. He was angry, oh, _so_ angry. He had never recalled being this infuriated in all of his life. How dare they break into _his_ property. Howdare they take _his_ Nanase.

 

“Faster!” he growled, gripping the driver’s seat. He was doing all he could to not completely snap and throw a fit, yet his control was waning fast. The poor man gave a yelp and stepped on the gas, speeding down the lonely road. Rin kept his eyes on the clock- every minute seemed as if Haruka was getting farther and farther away from him, and by the time they arrived at the hotel, he was long gone.

 

Rin stood on the stairs of the penthouse, his men scoping around below and in his room in hopes of finding evidence as to who could’ve done this. He could feel the anger and worry bubble under his skin like venom. What if they had hurt him? What if he was _dead_?

 

“Fuck!” Rin cried out, pounding his fist onto the railing. He could feel hot tears begin to prick at the corners of his eyes. It felt unreal to Rin. Haruka had been his only companion for the past two years; he can’t even remember what his life was like without him. When they had met Rin wasn’t even highly ranked in the Crystal Sharks, but Haru had given him motivation to climb to the top. With his muse gone, what was he to do?

 

“Matsuoka-sama… we haven’t found anything.” One of his men said, timidly approaching him. Apparently word had gotten out that Rin had stabbed a subordinate, and now his men were keeping a safe distance between themselves and their boss.

 

“God,” he choked out, putting a hand to his forehead, finally beginning to break down, “what could they possibly be doing to him?”

 

-

 

“M-Makato _oooh!_ ” Haru bucked his hips up into Makoto’s crotch as he sucked on a _very_ sensitive spot on the underside of his jaw. They were lying on Makoto’s bed, Makoto currently straddling a flushed Haru. The blinds were drawn and the door was closed tight- as if that would make a difference in the volume of his moans.

 

Makoto had Haru’s hands pinned above his head as he worked at Haruka’s chest with his mouth. His shirt had long ago been abandoned, chest fully on display. His pants were visibly tented, but Makoto pretended to ignore it, only focused on Haru’s upper body.

 

“These marks, Haruka…” Makoto mumbled as he licked a large mark on his chest-credit to Rin-, looking up at him with dark eyes. He whimpered, trying to get his mouth to form actual words. “…I’m going to replace them.”

 

He gasped as Makoto bit down on the mark, sucking on the skin and sending jolts straight to his cock. Maybe he’d taken a liking to the whole ‘biting’ thing after all, he thought as the sting of the bite quickly melted into a syrupy pleasure. Lewd sucking noises emitted from his mouth as he moved around Haru’s chest, avoiding his nipples purposely. Haru knew what he was doing, and he _loved_ it. His erection was starting to ache though, and he was desperate for some contact.

 

“M-Mak- _ah_!” Haru balled his hands into fists, trying to choke down a moan. His skin was on _fire_ , only burning hotter and hotter at the touch of Makoto’s lips. It was if Haru was kerosene, and Makoto was a match. One ignites the other.

 

“What is it, Ha~ru~ka,” he sang devilishly against Haru’s chest, his breath ghosting over a stiff nipple. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control the pounding of his heart. He was definitely feeling _something_ \- that was for sure.

 

“T-touch…” he breathed, trying to push his chest up into Makoto. Hoping he would get the message, he made a whiney, desperate noise from the back of his throat. Makoto looked at Haruka, eyes gleaming mischievously. The man who had tended to his wounds so carefully, so delicately, was gone now; replaced by a hungry, lustful beast.

 

“You want me to touch you, Haruka?” he teased, flicking his tongue over a pink bud. Haru’s back arched, trembling from his head to his toes. He looked at Makoto with half lidded eyes, nodding his head. “ _Yes,_ ” he thought, “ _yes, yes, yes, yes._ ”

 

“How cute.” Makoto chuckled, and started planting wet, open mouth kisses on Haru’s neck and trailed his mouth down to a nipple. At the same time, he removed one of his hands from Haru’s wrists, gliding it down his arm sensually and running it along Haru’s side, spreading heat over Haru’s skin.

 

One of Makoto’s hands made its way down to the nipple that he wasn’t busy sucking on, and he gently took it between his thumb and forefinger. Haru gasped as he started squeezing it- not hard, but not soft, either- and could feel a coil in his stomach beginning to wind tighter and _tighter_. If he were to come just like this, he’d-

 

“S-stop…” he groaned, covering his face in the crook of his elbow to hide the growing blush on his face. Makoto’s mouth came off of his nipple with a loud, wet _pop_ , only winding the coil tighter, and _fuck_ , it wasn’t fair that he was so skilled with his stupid, sexy mouth. “If you don’t stop, I’m goi- _hnnn_ …ng to…”

 

Makoto’s eyes widened in surprise, and slid his hand off of Haru’s chest. He felt a mixture of relief and disappointment; mostly disappointment.

 

“What, come?” he laughed, sounding astonished. Haru squeezed his eyes shut before mumbling a quiet _yes_. “ _Oh my God_ ,” he thought, “ _how embarrassing,”_ as he felt Makoto shift on top of him, sliding down off of his body until he was positioned between his legs. Before Haru could even realize what was going on, there was a sudden wet swipe across the front of his pajama pants, where his cock was restrained against the sheer fabric.

 

He rutted his hips up in surprise at the sudden hotness on his member. Thanking himself for _not_ wearing underwear to bed, he removed his elbow from his eyes to peek down at Makoto in surprise, who was now licking at the front of Haru’s pants, sucking on the cloth and leaving wet, sticky spots of saliva. The feeling was _delicious_ and Haru shuddered, pushing his hips up again. This time, Makoto planted his hands on his waist to hold him down, stroking the V-shape of his lower abdomen.

 

“So,” Makoto purred, running his finger along the line of Haru’s waistband. God, he was _such a tease_ , and it wasn’t fair at all to Haru- but he enjoyed it nonetheless. “You must be feeling something, right? Have I proven my point? Are you convinced?”

 

Haru thought for a moment as Makoto continued teasing his aching cock through his pants, sending sweet shivers up and down his spine. Yes, he was convinced. Yes, he had proven his point. But it wasn’t enough- no, it was not nearly enough for him. Haru, for the first time in his life, wanted more.

 

 _Needed_ more.

 

“I think,” he gasped at another sudden wet lick, “I’m going to need more proof.”

 

At that, Makoto sucked roughly on his cock through the thin fabric, deep sounds vibrating in his throat as Haru gritted his teeth and clutched the pillow beneath his head to steady his shaking hands.

 

“I like your answer.” He murmured, yanking down Haru’s pants and exposing his hot, flushed cock to the cold air of the room. He hissed through his teeth at the sudden sensation as Makoto laid it on Haru’s stomach, precum already gathered at the tip. He looked it at and licked his lips, as if he were about to devour something delectable.

 

He ran his tongue lightly along the vein on the underside of Haru’s cock, only causing it to ache more. Haru could feel every twitch of his tongue, every sudden lick. He moaned as Makoto kissed the tip of it, sucking at the slit lightly, as if it was something precious to him. Haru gasped, biting down on his hand to muffle his moans.

 

As soon as Makoto saw this though, he withdrew his tongue from his member. Haru whimpered at the loss of feeling, but now Makoto had moved to his inner thigh, rubbing his lips against the sensitive skin. “No, Haruka,” he cooed, “I want to hear you.”

 

With that, he bit down _hard_ where his lips once were, and Haru could feel the sharp sting of pain shooting up his leg, and straight to his groin. He cried out, hand flying away from his mouth and leaving a small string of saliva dripping from his mouth. He had been biting his hand so hard that it was throbbing- he had probably opened up one of the wounds, but he could hardly focus on that now, not with _this_ going on.

 

Makoto hummed in approval and moved back to his neglected cock, slowly taking in the head and hollowing out his cheeks, and _oh, god_ -

 

Out of nowhere, Makoto had taken his entire length into his mouth, sucking harshly and swallowing around it, causing Haru to _wail_. He had never been this vocal in his life. He usually lay there quietly, an occasional grunt escaping his lips- this was on a whole different level.

 

He began bobbing his head up and down on his shaft, slowly, teasing Haru. He watched as Makoto almost expertly used his tongue and lips in perfect synchronization, quickly finding Haru’s most sensitive spots and abusing them. He could feel his lower abdomen burn, and Haru could feel a familiar feeling beginning to rush over him, drowning his vision in white.

 

“I-I’m- _!_ ” before he could finish, Makoto swiftly removed his lips from Haru’s cock, spit and precum sliding down the flushed organ. Haru gave a sob as he was denied release, felt the pressure of his orgasm being pent up. He was so close, _so close_ ; Haru was beginning to think that maybe Makoto was a bit of a sadist - then again, he was probably a bit of a masochist himself.

 

“No, no, Haruka,” he hummed, running his fingers along Haru’s wet shaft and giving the base a small squeeze, “you can’t come. Not yet.” Haru gave a small whine through his nose, the feeling of his non-existent orgasm beginning to fade away; he was left harder now than he was before. His thoughts were a swampy mess and he couldn’t think straight to save his life, making it difficult to concentrate on what Makoto was saying.

 

“Haruka,” Makoto husked, leaning up to plant a chaste kiss on Haru’s lips as he slid off his pants completely, throwing them to join the other clothes on the floor. He was completely exposed, while Makoto still had on his dress pants, and _damn_ , was he built. “get on your knees for me?”

 

“Why?” Haru keened as Makoto traced his fingers along his bare leg. Makoto continued peppering kisses on his face- jaw, eyes, ears, lips, nose; anything he could manage to land a kiss on.

 

“Please,” he murmured, his hot breath misting over Haru’s ear. “ _Fuck it,_ ” thought Haru, and gently pushed Makoto off of him, giving himself room to flip over, and now was positioned on his elbows and knees, his dripping cock brushed against the sheets and sending quick shocks of pleasure through his body. As he changed positions, Makoto’s hands never left his hips, rubbing them gently the whole time.

 

This position was, to say the least, _embarrassing_. He couldn’t see what Makoto was doing or what expression he wore, as he was resting his head on his arms, his back obstructing his view.

 

“What a-a _auuh…!_ ” His question was swallowed by the moans that spilled from his lips as he felt something slick and wet swipe across his hole, completely taking him but surprise and causing his hips to jut forward, driving his cock into the sheets. He trembled at the stimulation he was receiving.

 

“What,” he gasped, trying again as he felt another quick lick against him, “are you doing?”

 

There was a chuckle and he felt something nuzzle his ass. “What does it look like? I’m eating you out.”

 

“ _Oh._ ” Haru’s body got incredibly hot at the bluntness of Makoto’s words. In all his years of sexual experience, not once had he _ever_ experienced rimming. Sex for him was usually brutal; little preparation and a lot of fucking.

 

He moaned when Makoto’s tongue entered him, his hands kneading his ass and spreading it wide open. The wet sounds of his tongue only added to the increasing desire in Haru’s stomach, and the strange feeling of being stretched by Makoto’s mouth only made it worse. Haru writhed beneath him, completely at the mercy of Makoto.

 

He lightly blew at Haru’s opening before laying his tongue flat against it, and traced his rim, sucking it. Makoto lets his hot breath ghost over his perineum before lapping at his hole again, lightly dipping his tongue in. Haru gripped the sheets in his sweaty hands, trying to control his breathing as his ass was played with.

 

“Haruka,” Makoto breathed as Haru pushed himself towards Makoto, trying to get his tongue _deeper_ , to that one place that would make him go insane. As expected, Makoto had no other plans but to simply _torture_ him, and drew his head back with a pant, and admired how ruined Haru looked- admired his handiwork. Skin damp with sweat, pupils blown wide and back arched at an incredibly beautiful angle, taut like a bow. “I’m going to put in some fingers now.”

 

Haru let out a choked sob, and pushed his hips back towards Makoto. “Hurry,” he moaned, rocking them side to side, as if to entice Makoto, and it worked. Haru hear the springs creak in the mattress and it dipped into him now, with the extra weight gone. He turned to look at Makoto rummaging through his drawers frantically. He had a determined look on his face as he searched through each drawer, finally pulling out a small white tube, half empty.

 

“Sorry,” he huffed, getting back onto the bed and positioning himself behind Haru once again. Haru only hummed, somewhat impatiently, and spread his legs a little wider, as if telling Makoto ‘ _Come and get it,_ ’ There was a snap of a lid and the sound of liquid being squeezed out, and Haru rubbed himself against the blankets, trying to relieve the needy pressure on his groin.

 

Makoto brushed his fingers together with the lube, warming it up, and tossed the bottle to the side for later. He spread Haru’s cheeks with one hand, and ran his fingers along the cleft of his ass, earning a tremble from him. Lowering his head, he ran his tongue along the path he had just created with the lube, tasting the sweet liquid. He probed at Haru with his tongue before slipping a finger inside, slowly feeling Haru’s hot walls clench around him.

 

“ _MMhahh!_ ” Haru whined, recoiling and arching his back at the intrusion. Makoto slowly pulled the finger out, rubbing his other hand along Haru’s hip.

 

“Shh, _breathe_ , Haruka.” Makoto’s gentle voice persuaded Haru to relax, and he gently lowered himself back into the position he was in before, hips high in the air. This time, Makoto circled his rim before plunging a finger inside, reaching as far as he could before pulling out again. He did this several times, stretching him and earning a handful of noises from Haru.

 

Haru wished he could see what Makoto looked like. He felt very self-conscious, and was worried he was the only one whose heart was beating a million miles an hour and that he was the only one who felt as if they had been dipped into a scalding hot bath, skin burning in the most pleasurable way.

 

He was drawn out of his thoughts when Makoto added a second finger, curling inside of Haru. He groaned, pushing his hips back, trying to get him to go farther, to get to that place. Just a little _more_ , and-

 

“ _Makoto!”_ Haru’s voice rang through the room as Makoto curled his fingers into just the right spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure through every inch of Haru’s body. He rammed himself into the sheets, creating a slick trail of precum wherever his cock touched. Makoto, who now knew exactly how to unravel Haru, continued striking the same place over and over, slipping in a third finger to assist the others.

 

Hearing Haru call out his name like that almost sent Makoto over the edge himself, and his pants weren’t even off. “ _Am I dreaming?_ ” he thought wistfully as he watched Haru come apart beneath him by the sheer force of his fingers. “ _I must be dreaming,_ ” he concluded, as Haru let out a wanton wail.

 

Haru was reaching his climax at an impossible pace. He could feel himself start to let go when Makoto removed his wet fingers with a _slick_ sound, leaving Haru feeling empty. As he opened his mouth to protest, to complain about being denied his orgasm _again_ , he was abruptly flipped over onto his back. Makoto was hovering above him, eyes dark and cheeks flushed. His pants were gone now, they seemed to have disappeared right of his body, and Haru could see in plain sight Makoto’s own arousal, how his cock was red and dripping. Haru forgot how to breathe; everything in that moment was still.

 

Reaching a shaking hand up, he placed his palm on Makoto’s face, stroking his cheek, as if to confirm that this was real- that this wasn’t just some sick dream he would wake up from and have to feel the loneliness eat away at his soul. He wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t wake up in the cold penthouse room besides Rin, and have his life tossed around like a Frisbee- constantly being played with until he broke and was no longer worth anything.

 

Makoto let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, leaning into the warmth of Haru’s hand. Haru could feel the heat of his cheeks, the beating of his heart, and _yes,_ this had to be real.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, positioning himself before Haru’s entrance, “I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

 

“W- _Ah!_ ” Haru let out a choked sob when he felt Makoto’s tip begin to spread him open, a sweet burn flowing through his backside. Makoto slowly pushed himself in, comforting Haru and rubbing circles into his hips with the pad of his thumb, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. It burned, didn’t necessarily hurt, but it was bit uncomfortable. He’s never taken someone quite this… _large_. Haru figured that there’s a first for everything.

 

Once Makoto was fully sheathed inside of him, he paused, giving Haru time to adjust. His breath was hot on Haru’s neck as he rested his head on his collarbone, trying with everything he’s got not to just lose control and fuck this boy _raw_ , until he’s screaming out his name and there are tears running down his face, and oh, _god_ -

 

“Makoto,” Haru mumbled shakily, carding his fingers through the brunette’s hair. He looked up into the dark blue eyes that glimmered in the dull light of the room. Makoto found it strange as to how he was so entranced by them in this moment; all they’re doing is fucking for pleasure. Not ‘making love’, just ‘sex’. There was no emotion in this –well, for Haru at least, he thinks- and nothing will come out of this except an awkward conversation with Sousuke and probably an all-out brawl with Matsuoka.

 

But he feels so much _passion_ in Haruka’s gaze, feels a warmth he hasn’t felt in ages. There is so much emotion lying under every movement he makes, every sound that escapes his lips, and it’s driving Makoto mad. Everywhere their bodies touch seems to fuse them together and he thinks it’s wrong to say that there is nothing to this but animalistic pleasure.

 

Yes, this is wrong, and yes, Makoto is crazy for liking a man he barely knows. Maybe it’s the hormones talking, but he feels something so much more between them- and maybe, he thinks, he can love; because there is no other way to describe the warm glow deep in his chest. This probably isn’t the time to be getting all sentimental, but he can’t help it. He feels as if he’s just had an epiphany.

 

Haruka is Makoto’s _fire_ , warming him and saving him from the frozen tundra that is his soul. Every touch is a spark, igniting Makoto like adding gasoline to a blazing inferno and consuming his entire being in passionate flames. The years of pain and agony seem to melt away like candle wax and Makoto can feel the layer of ice under his skin begin to disappear.

 

It’s then he realizes it.

 

“Move,” the words are barely audible, but they shake Makoto’s world like an explosion. Haru’s hands wrap themselves around Makoto’s torso, pulling himself into his chest as Makoto pulls himself out nearly all the way, before ramming back inside of Haru, enveloping his cock in the sweet warmth.

 

Haru continued letting out mewls and moans as Makoto moved his hips, slowly at first but gradually increasing the speed of his thrusts. He could hear Makoto’s throaty grunts, could feel how hard his fingers were digging into the flesh of his hips, and he was glad- glad because the marks he would wear on his skin would not remind him of sadness, rather they’d remind him of something completely different.

 

“Haruka,” Makoto moaned, and he began stroking Haru’s neglected cock, swiping the pad of his thumb over the slit over and over again. He arched his back, seating himself deeper onto Makoto’s member as well as driving his dick harder into his wet hand. Precum had collected on his stomach, and Makoto was now using it as a lubricant, roughly stroking Haru’s hot cock with it and lathering it in the sticky liquid. The feeling of Makoto’s rough, calloused hands wrapped around him was almost too much, and he dug his fingernails into Makoto’s muscly back, tears forming in his eyes as he felt himself getting, closer, closer, and then Makoto hit that spot and-

 

“ _M-Makatooh!_ ” He lifted himself off the bed, pressing his pulsing cock in-between their bodies as he released, unbelievable amounts of electric pleasure coursing through his veins like some sort of drug, so much so that his vision briefly became white, and he could feel nothing but Makoto’s heavy cock stroking his prostate over and over, his hand milking him dry. Hot cum shot out of his cock in great spurts, coating his stomach and chest as well as Makoto’s hand.

 

“Haruka, _Haruka!_ ” his name left Makoto’s lips like a desperate chant, uttering the sweet word over and over as he felt Haru’s cock pulse in his hand. His thrusts became sloppy as he began reaching his own climax, and was finally driven over the edge at the feeling of Haru’s wall clenching around his member. He grunted and rammed himself into Haruka one last time, before pulling out and cumming on Haru’s stomach, hips twitching as he released. It was intense, to say the least- Makoto briefly lost his hearing and he collapsed onto Haru’s shoulder, breathing heavily.

 

They lay there for a few moments, basking in the afterglow. Haru can feel how fast Makoto’s heart is beating, and figures his was probably going the same pace. “ _Wow,_ ” he thinks to himself, stroking Makoto’s back lazily, “ _wow._ ” Makoto sure had done a good job at making him feel something, because that had been a whole new experience for him. Just thinking about it made him tremble pleasantly.

 

Haru’s eyelids suddenly become very heavy, and he felt himself begin to drift off. Although the semen drying on his stomach was a bit uncomfortable, he didn’t have the heart or energy to tell Makoto to get up, who also seemed to be falling asleep. He sighed contently, wrapping his arms around Makoto’s neck and began to doze; before he was completely out, though, he swore he could’ve heard something- a soft, delicate whisper.

 

“…ove… y…o…”

 

**

 

Makoto opened his eyes blearily, the alarm clock on the nightstand coming into focus. The time read _9:31 AM_ in small red letters, and he sighed. As tired as he was, he knew he had shit to do, which meant he had to get up.

 

When moved the blankets, a sudden chill struck his lower body. Looking down revealed that he was nude. _“Why am I naked_?” he thought. Puzzled, he looked over at the side table again, and saw an uncapped bottle of lube. Why was that out? Who could he have- _oh, shit_.

 

Now he remembered, clear as day, that he had taken Haruka into his room (with nothing but sinful intentions, to be completely honest) and they had, _well_ , ‘done it’. Was it a mistake? Yes.

 

Was it worth it? _Yes._

 

“Oh, good,” He chirped, “shit.” Makoto sat up and turned to the side, preparing to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness from Haruka.

 

Only problem- _he wasn’t there._

 

The sight of the empty bed next to him filled him with a whole range of emotions. Panic, despair, anger- basically any appropriate feeling for this situation. He slapped himself on the forehead, frantically looking around the room.

 

Why had he been so _stupid?_ Did he really think Nanase was actually going to stay with him after he had let his guard down like that? By now, he was probably already back at Matsuoka’s and now the Sharks were on their way here to blow the god damn place into the sky.

 

Makoto flung the sheets off of his body and bolted to the door, hastily grabbing his green bathrobe from the hook and wrapped it around himself. He fumbled with the door handle-his hands were shaking so much it was a struggle to even grasp it- and flew out into the hallway, now drowning in panic and anguish. If it wasn’t for that delicious smell of curry, he’d probably be vomiting right now, but-

 

Wait, _what_?

 

Makoto skidded to a halt, stopping right before the living room. He took a long, deep inhale through his nose, and _yes_ , he definitely smelled curry. But… why?

 

He cautiously stepped out into the living room, and made his way towards the kitchen, and he could begin to hear sounds now; utensils and spice containers being set down on the tile counter, the dull thud of bare feet. Preparing for the worst, looked to the kitchen. What he saw nearly made him faint.

 

Haruka was standing in front of the stove, stirring a bubbling pot and occasionally poking at something on a frying pan. He was wearing one of Makoto’s dress shirts and some of Makoto’s boxers, which were _way_ too big for him.

 

Makoto put a hand under his nose to make sure he wasn’t having a nosebleed, because there was _no way_ this was happening. This was too good to be true; Haru should be gone right now, escaping Makoto’s cruel clutches- not _standing in his fucking kitchen making food_.

 

Haruka seemed to have noticed Makoto standing dumbly in front of the kitchen, and he set down the spoon. He played with one of the buttons on his shirt before speaking.

 

“Sorry, I had to borrow some of your clothes,” he mumbled, “but I’m making you breakfast.”

 

“…Eh?”

 

Makoto couldn’t even process the situation. He just stood there, spaced out, as Haruka grew concerned that maybe he had done something wrong. Makoto was truly awestruck. He had stayed. _Haruka had stayed with him_.

 

“Makot-?!” Haru was cut off by Makoto, who had seemed to transport to his side of the kitchen and had wrapped him in a bone crushing hug.  He could feel his cheeks burn as Makoto held him tighter, burying his nose in Haru’s dark, silky locks.

 

“Sorry,” Makoto muttered “I just… didn’t expect this.”

 

Haru chuckled a bit, relieved. “Well,” he said, pushing gently away from Makoto to look up at him, “I had to thank you, somehow. For… making me feel something, that is.”

 

Makoto’s breath hitched and he stared down at Haruka, who was blushing furiously.

 

“So I did it, huh? I proved to you that you’re not just some plaything that’s not capable of anything?”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Good,” Makoto said, bringing Haruka into his chest again, “because you are _so much more_ than that.”

 

Haru was about to return the hug when he starting to smell something burn, and quickly pulled away to tend to the food. Makoto stood there and watched him, a warm smile on his face. There was a peculiar fuzzy feeling in his chest, and he suddenly remembered what he had felt hours earlier, remember the feeling of completely overflowing with emotion. He figured that there was no denying it now.

 

Makoto was in love with him. With Haruka Nanase. Makoto, who had thought of himself as a cold, heartless man, had, for some unknown reason, opened his heart up to a complete stranger. As he stood and watched Haru cook, he couldn’t help but think “ _Do I deserve to love?”_

 

He had done countless cruel things, had committed countless crimes, and yet he was handed something so precious in such a short amount of time. There would be consequences to his actions of course; Matsuoka could barge in any moment and gun him down where he stood, but it didn’t matter to him. The only thing that really concerned him was how Haruka felt. Makoto didn’t expect him to return his feelings- after all, he _had_ kidnapped him and was currently holding him for ransom- but he just hoped that Haruka didn’t hate him.

 

“Haruka,” Makoto said, causing Haru to jump “what…” he sighed, frustrated as he tried to come up with the right words. Was this okay to ask? _How_ does he ask this? “You know that you’re something more than a ransom prize to me, but… what am I to you?” He was terrified of the answer he would get, and immediately began thinking of the worst things. ‘A monster.’ ‘A rapist.’ ‘Evil.’ All the possibilities swarmed inside his head as Haruka stared at him, slightly confused.

 

“…I don’t know,” Haruka started, and Makoto felt his heart drop to his feet. “I don’t know exactly what you are to me. I feel like you didn’t kidnap me just for the hotel, though. Maybe it was just me, but that back there didn’t feel like _just_ sex. You were very… passionate.” Makoto felt his cheeks warm up and _shit_ , was he blushing? And _double shit_ , he had caught onto him? _Already_?

 

Makoto hung his head in shame, silently beating himself up for being so vulnerable. He would’ve said something to Haruka, about how he had been thinking the same thing, how passionate he looked as Makoto had held him, if not for the embarrassment that had made his mouth stick shut.

 

“But,” Haruka began again, turning back to the stove, “I’m glad that you took me away from there. As a prisoner, a ransom- whatever. You kind of… saved me, I guess. From a life I didn’t want to be living, and you’ve brought me here. In such a short amount of time, I’ve experienced so much more than I have in the past years… you’re asking what you are to me?” Makoto felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up, into the fathomless blue that he had so foolishly fallen for.

 

“I’d say that you’re my savior, in a way.” Haruka’s smile lit up his words, and if it was not for his pride, Makoto would’ve started to sob. No, this was not Haruka confessing his love for him, but it was a good start. He didn’t hate him, he didn’t push him away; he had accepted him- gone as far as to call him a _savior_. Makoto let out a shaky breath and nodded.

 

“I wasn’t planning on ever bringing you back to Matsuoka, anyway.” He chuckled running his fingers through his hair. He thought what he said was a bit creepy, but took it back when Haruka started to laugh. It was a melodic sound that reminded Makoto when he’d go to the beach with Ren and Ran, and they’d sit and listen to the crashing of the waves and the chirping of the seagulls. It reminded Makoto of happiness. Of home.

 

“What about the whole ‘ransom for the hotel’ thing’ though?” Haruka asked, as Makoto gazed down fondly at him. Truth be told, he had been thinking of this since day one, and had formulated a plan over the days that had followed. It was simple, really- oldest trick in the book.

 

“Don’t worry,” he said, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room, heading towards the phone. Haruka followed after him, waiting for an explanation, “I have an idea.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Yay! Smut is finally out!!**
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry if it's bad, tbh it was my first time writing smut so I don't really know how I did? it switches povs a lot kinda so sorry if it confused you ●︿●  
> I had originally intended for their sex to be rough and hardcore and yeah but it kinda wrote itself and turned out a fluffy mESS
> 
> *leave a comment or hit me up at otomeflakes.tumblr.com to talk to me about ideas you have for this fic or just generic makoharu trash ◕‿-*


	5. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _..."I want to help you rebuild and recover, piece by piece.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for added feels listen to **Unintended by Muse** when things start to get rocky

After a week of arguing, whining, and an incident with the coffee machine, Makoto had managed to allow Haruka to be ‘kept’ in his room. His men, although not particularly delighted by the idea, remained silent and supported him, because the boss always knew what was best… right?

 

On the other hand, Sousuke was beside himself. Makoto’s excuses of how ‘the cell was not suitable for someone like Haruka’ went in one ear and out the other. Makoto was glad he had told him over the phone, because he was pretty sure if he had said it in person he’d be in a hospital bed. He told Sousuke that he would explain his plan when the time was right, and, _well_ , Makoto was still searching for a good time. Getting Sousuke to agree with the plan of taking Nanase had been one thing, but this- this would be a whole different story.

 

It’s true that Makoto did not want Haruka to return to the cell, but the main reason was not because it was ‘unsuitable’. He was quite lonely in his big flat, and the extra company was nice; not to mention said company was the man he had been fawning over for quite some time now. Haruka had even asked Makoto to please let him stay, to not be sent back to the cold room. How could he have said no?

 

And besides, living with Haruka had certain… _advantages_.

 

In the time Makoto spent living with Haruka in his apartment, he had begun to feel a sense of stability. _Normality_. Alone in the quiet apartment, he could almost forget he was a mob boss and that Haruka was a ransom. It felt nice, sitting at the dinner table and eating together, staying up late into the night and waking up the next morning sweaty and sore, but happy nonetheless.

 

Of course, it was a bit awkward; Haruka hadn’t completely let his guard down around Makoto, and they didn’t have much to talk about. Makoto only touched him when Haruka gave the ‘ _O._ K’, and vice versa. But Makoto was willing to work on it. He did everything he possibly could to show Haruka how much he _cared_ and how much he wanted Haruka to trust him. Makoto had stripped down almost every barrier he had erected around himself, only for Haruka. He wasn’t even aware of it, but with each passing day he was falling more and more in love.

 

He would often find himself watching Haruka, absentmindedly. When he was cooking, when he was lounging- anything. Sometimes Haruka would catch him and blush, but other times Makoto could go on admiring him for hours.

 

The only real downside to the whole thing was that Haruka could spend _hours_ on end just sitting in the tub, and Makoto would usually have to drag him out, leaving them both cold and wet.

 

Makoto’s men noticed a change in him, without Makoto even realizing it himself. Before they had acquired Haruka, he would always be brooding over something, his smiles were always cruel and icy, and his eyes were emotionless pools of green. Rarely would he be in his room; he was always busy with something or another, never giving himself a moments rest. Now, though, _now_ he seemed content at meetings, would offer a smile to anyone who passed, and moreover, he seemed _alive_. Not some empty shell of a man, but a living, breathing, human being who was capable of having feelings. Any time he could spare was spent in his room, and of course, everyone knew why. Some began to think their boss had lost it. Other’s liked the change.

 

Makoto had finally decided it was time to tell Sousuke what he was planning, so while Haruka was in the tub, he invited him over. Sousuke was suspicious at first, as Makoto hadn’t called him to his room in quite some time, but he agreed and was at Makoto’s door within mere minutes of the call.

 

It was drizzling outside, the cold autumn rain gradually making its way into the town of Iwatobi. Makoto was drinking tea on the couch when he heard three sharp knocks on his door.

 

“It’s open.” He called, blowing the steam away that rose from the cup. Makoto heard the door open then shut, and then Sousuke came into view. Looking as he usually did –clean, formidable, and menacing-, he offered a bow to Makoto and sat down on the chair opposite to him.

 

“So,” he began, crossing his feet, “you ready to tell me what you’ve been brewing up for the past _seven_ days?”

 

Makoto chuckled. “Don’t sass me, Yamazaki. Yes, I’m ready to tell you, so you better be ready to hear it.” 

 

“Got it. Lay it on me.”

 

Makoto tapped his fingers against the china cup, looking at Sousuke. He was trying to decide whether he was still angry about Haruka or not, but Sousuke wore his usual, indifferent expression. Makoto figured if he was still angry about it, he’d know in about a minute.

 

“Well,” he began slowly, “I’m thinking we need to call up Matsuoka and tell him it was us, if he hasn’t already figured it out. Tell him we’re willing to give Ha…Nanase, back if he’s willing to give us the deed, and I’m sure he’ll agree. So we set up a meeting place and give Nanase back, and get the deed.”

 

Sousuke nodded approvingly. “Okay, I like it. What’s the catch, though?”

 

“Well, the thing is, is that we won’t actually be giving him back.”

 

“Then, how…?” Sousuke had begun to argue, but Makoto held up a hand and sipped his tea.

 

“It’s simple, really. We meet, present Nanase and show he’s unharmed, they show the deed and everyone gets what they want. While making the exchange, we snatch the deed and run with Nanase. They’re left empty-handed, and we get all of their property.”

 

Sousuke sat with his mouth agape, looking as if he’d just seen a shinigami. “Please excuse me, boss, but that it the single _dumbest idea I have ever heard from you! Ever!_ ”

 

“ _Yup,_ ” Makoto thought to himself as he stared at a seething Sousuke, who was currently giving him the evil eye, “ _still pissed about having Haruka in my room._ ”

 

“I know, I know, Yamazaki. It’s dumb and risky and probably won’t work, but-“

 

“It’s more than just dumb and risky!” Sousuke yelled, and Makoto jumped. Sousuke was never one to lash out like this, and quite frankly, Makoto didn’t approve. Why was he getting so upset over such a simple idea? “It’s downright idiotic! There’s no way they’re going to fall for that old trick. If we grab the deed and run, who’s to say they won’t gun us all down? Follow us back to base?”

 

“Yamazaki, I know it’s not one of my best ideas, but it’s all I got.” Makoto sighed, setting the cup down on the table.

 

“Why do we have to keep Nanase, anyway?”

 

Makoto froze, locked into place by the force of Sousuke’s glare. He licked his lips, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse, anything that would get him out of this situation.

 

“…Well… because-“

 

“Makoto,” Sousuke whispered. Makoto’s flinched, his words broken off by surprise. He had only ever heard Sousuke call him by his first name when he was injured or sick, and it usually meant he was dead serious; not seeing him as his boss, but as his _friend_.

 

“…are… you in love with Nanase?”

 

He swallowed hard, and stared at the floor. How was he supposed to answer this? Tell the truth and risk being shunned by Sousuke and cast aside by his men? Or lie, deny it with everything he’s got and watch the light in his dark world be snuffed out?

 

“…Yes,” he murmured, balling his fists, “Yes. I am.”

 

His answer resonated through the quiet room, seeming as though it had broadcasted to the whole world. He waited for the yelling, for Sousuke to storm out and yell that Makoto had been foolish enough to fall for their _male_ prisoner.

 

All he heard was a soft, irritated sigh.

 

“I knew it,” huffed Sousuke, reaching into his coat pocket and drawing out a cigarette, “ever since the day when you first saw him, I could see it in your eyes. The way you looked at him… you’ve never looked at anyone like that before. Not even-” He began to say more, but scoffed and put the cigarette in his mouth.

 

“…What?”

 

Makoto’s word came out like a puff of air, relief hanging from the single syllable. Sousuke rolled his eyes as if this was something obvious, took out a lighter, and lit his cigarette.

 

“I knew that there had to be a reason behind wanting that hotel, boss. You’re not one to make rash decisions that could possibly harm your group.”

 

“Oh.” Makoto squeaked, burying his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe that Sousuke had known all along. All that worrying had been for absolutely nothing, and Makoto felt ashamed that he had doubted Sousuke like this.

 

“Before, you’d always do what needed to be done and not give a second thought about it. And it was because you didn’t have anything in your life worth loosing. You’d never make stupid, rash decisions or put the group in danger… but now there’s something fucking with your feelings, boss,” Sousuke exhaled a large amount of smoke and closed his eyes, as if he were exhausted. “you’ve found someone dear to you and now you’ve changed. Some of the older members… they…”

 

Sousuke stopped and lowered his head as if he were afraid to speak. Makoto was still trying to drink up what Sousuke had told him, but he managed to grind out a response.

 

“Go on, Yamazaki. Tell me.”

 

“…They say they haven’t seen you act like this since… before you had lost your family…”

 

Makoto covered his mouth with his hand to try and swallow back a gasp. He couldn’t even remember how he had acted that long ago- he could remember, though, the sting of being beat by yakuza every day, and he could remember how he felt when he talked to his mom and dad, to Ren and Ran... if people were saying that he was acting like the innocent kid he had been five years ago, then…

 

“Am… am I going _soft_ , Sousuke…?”

 

Sousuke chuckled and flicked his cigarette, ridding it of ash. “Naw, boss. You’ve just found something to be happy about, I guess. Some of the men like it, you know. You’re ‘not as scary’ anymore.”

 

Makoto groaned, leaning back into the couch. He was glad that Sousuke hadn’t made a big deal of his feelings, and was relieved his men weren’t fed up with his antics, but there was still the plan to discuss.

 

“So, what about my plan?”

 

A troubled look crossed Sousuke’s face and he snuffed out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray. Makoto knew that even if Sousuke said no, he could go ahead with the plan anyway; it would’ve felt wrong without consulting his right hand man first, though.

 

“I guess if you like him that much and you don’t want to lose him, there’s nothing I can do.” He sighed, getting up from the chair and bowing to Makoto.

 

“Thank you. I’ll call you tomorrow and discuss meeting with the men to inform them.”

 

Sousuke gave a quick, curt nod and left the room. Once he had heard the door shut, he let out a tremendous sigh of relief. Not only had Sousuke accepted his feelings towards Haruka, he had gone along with the _insanely_ ridiculous plan to keep him. Makoto didn’t even know what would happen _if_ the plan succeeded, but he could worry about that later.

 

Even if the exchange went well, there was a chance –like Sousuke had said- that they could be followed, or in the worst case scenario, be shot down, but he didn’t really care. As long as Haruka was safe and happy, he would be happy too.

 

“I guess I don’t mind if I’m going soft,” he chuckled to himself, staring out the window into the gloomy rain.

 

-

 

“Makoto…are… you in love with Nanase?”

 

Haru nearly slipped as he stood up in the bath, shocked by the words he had just heard.

 

Unbeknownst to both Makoto and Sousuke, Haru could hear _everything_ they had been discussing through the walls of the bathroom. The walls were not particularly thin, but both men didn’t realize that they spoke rather loudly. Every word was clear as day.

 

Up until this point, Haru had been listening just for fun, out of boredom. Makoto had already explained to him what he was going to do, and he had agreed. Makoto had told him to take a bath and go straight to bed, because he would have someone coming over. Haru obeyed, and did not mean to eavesdrop, but some things you just can’t help.

 

He quickly sat back down in the lukewarm bath, causing water to splash out of the tub as he pressed his ear tight against the cold tile. He was worried that he had missed Makoto’s answer because he heard only the dull drip of the leaky faucet. But then there was a noise-

 

“…Yes. Yes I am.”

 

Haru felt his breath hitch in his throat, the words replaying in his head like a strike of a gong. _“Yes, yes I am_ ,”

 

He had known that Makoto had taken him for one reason or another besides ‘wanting the hotel’. He thought maybe it was just to toy with him (which he quickly proved was not true,) or just to piss Rin of (which he kind of did anyway), but he had _not_ expected it to be this. In love with him… why?

 

Haru sunk down into the bath, letting the water go up to his nose at tickle at his lips. Billions of thoughts swam in his head, but the one that kept coming back like a pulsing headache was: _How do I feel_?

 

He tried to get his facts straight- One, Makoto had taken him from Rin. Two, Haru _liked_ that he was taken from Rin. Three, he was interested in Makoto- when he tried to define _interested_ though, he couldn’t come up with a clear answer. Fascination? Impulsive decision? Stockholm syndrome? Haru sighed, bubbles erupting from the water and breaking under his nose.

 

Even though he was glad to be rescued from his unfulfilling life, he felt guilty; Haru felt as if he still owed Rin for saving him, and doing this to him wasn’t fair. Then he’d think of everything Rin had done to him in the past years- every act of dehumanization, every degrading word, making him feel like a _doll_ \- and the guilt would pass as quickly as it had come.

 

Haru didn’t want to completely reject Makoto’s feelings, but he didn’t want to completely accept them either; he wasn’t 100% on how he felt. He watched the water drip from the faucet into the bath, creating small ripples in the clear bathwater. “ _Should I acknowledge I know?_ ” He thought, counting each drip. One, two, three…  


The water was now uncomfortably cold and was causing Haru some discomfort. Reluctantly, he stood up and stepped out of the bath, grabbing a towel from the counter. He waited until he heard the front door shut before draining the bath, then dried his hair and wrapped himself.

 

As quietly as he could manage, he opened the bathroom door and scurried down the hall and into the bedroom. Haru couldn’t hear anything but the sound of the radio in the living room, playing soft, comforting music. He debated if it was better to just go to bed, but after a glance at the clock -8:04PM- he decided that would be too suspicious. Then again, going out there and facing Makoto was going to be _awkward_ , so much so that he wouldn’t mind the early bedtime.

 

“ _No,_ ” he thought to himself while pulling a green shirt over his damp hair, “ _if I don’t talk to him it’s just going to be weird._ ”

 

After slipping on some boxers and a pair of long pajama shorts (all bought so generously by Makoto), he ventured out into the hall again. Even though the volume of the radio was set on _low_ , it filled the flat with its peaceful melody. As he walked into the living room, he could see Makoto lying on the couch with his forearm covering his eyes. His breaths were deep and even, signaling that he was asleep.

 

Haru snickered at the sight of the Bell Orca’s leader passed out on the couch. It was comforting in a way, to see such a ‘professional’ acting like a normal human being. He quietly walked over to Makoto, and bent down to get the cup of tea in front of him. There was a cigarette in the ashtray- menthol, by the smell of it. Haru had grown quite accustomed to the smell of cigar smoke, as Makoto would sometimes smoke one before bed, but the smell of cigarettes bothered him greatly.

 

Crinkling his nose, he reached out for the tea cup, but was stopped by a warm hand encircling his wrist. Haru swiveled around, only to be met with tired, green eyes.

 

“Oh. You’re awake.” Haru smiled, trying to conceal the discomfort he felt. Makoto hummed in response, sliding his hand away from Haru’s wrist and leaving a sweet, lingering warmth there. Flopping back against the couch again, he carded his fingers through his hair.

 

“I’ve discussed it with Yamazaki. The plan is a go.” Makoto yawned, watching as Haru picked up the cup and walked to the kitchen, slowly setting it into the sink. He leaned against the counter, tapping his fingers against the lip of the sink. He took a shaky breath and licked his lips.

 

“Yeah, I know.” He spoke, turning around and walking back out to the living room. Makoto shot up, looking as if he’d just been slapped.

 

“What? How?” He spluttered, gripping onto to the side of the couch. Haru kept his eyes trained on his bare feet as he shuffled over and sat on the couch beside him. He could feel Makoto’s eyes burning into the side of his head, but did not want to look up, fearing he’d crumble under the other man’s intense gaze.

 

“From the bathroom… I heard you two talking.”

 

“How much did you hear…?”

 

“…Everything.” Haru uttered. He could feel his cheeks burning, and it frustrated him. Why was he getting so worked up over this? It’s not like he had the same feelings… maybe.

 

“Oh. I see,” Makoto’s voice sounded calm, but when Haru looked up to see his expression, it was panicked. “you’re probably creeped out. More so than you already are, I mean. Finding out a guy you’ve just met and fucked is in love with you must be weird.” He scoffed, the tone of his voice self-degrading, as if he were shaming himself. Haru couldn’t stand the look of disgust on his face, eyes so forlorn and angry.

 

“No!” Haru blurted, placing a hand on Makoto’s shoulder and squeezing gently. His eyes widened and Haru could feel his ears burn, but he continued speaking.

 

“I kind of figured something was up when you came into my cell that first day to fix my hands and my foot,” He held up his free hand, showing Makoto the dark pink scars, “I originally had thought you were just bored and wanted something to play with, but then…” he coughed, looking away. Makoto wore a thin smile, both bitter and heartwarming.

 

“…When we did ‘it’ for the first time, I… the way you looked at me… I knew you had feelings towards me,” he looked back into Makoto’s eyes, searching them for some sort of confirmation, that what he was saying was absolutely true.

 

“I never guessed that you’d fall in love with me, though.” He mumbled, his hand sliding off of Makoto’s shoulder, like it had gone limp. Halfway down his arm, Makoto caught his hand in his own, squeezing gently and holding it in place.

 

“I didn’t really believe it myself, to be honest.” he laughed, his smile quickly turning into a frown.

 

“Why me, though…?”

 

Makoto bowed his head and took a shaky breath. “I don’t know… but the feeling…. you don’t even get it. It’s so _intense_ , Haruka. And it hurts like a bitch. It’s… it’s been a long time since I’ve felt anything like this.”

 

Haru pouted, unsure what to say. He wanted to reassure Makoto that it was okay, he was fine with it- but he wasn’t sure if he really was.

 

“… I heard Yamazaki-san say- never mind.” Haru almost, _almost_ mentioned that he had heard Sousuke mention Makoto’s family, and that would’ve been bad. He figured that there was a reason he hadn’t heard about them, and thought it was just too personal- even for Haru.

 

Makoto chuckled a bit and ruffled Haru’s hair. He still wore an unbelievably painful expression, and his fake smile only made it worse, seeming to claw at Haru’s heart. “Go on, Haruka. I know what you’re going to say anyway.”

 

Haru leaned into the warmth of Makoto’s hand that was rested now on his cheek. Closing his eyes, he barely whispered the words.

 

“I heard Yamazaki-san say that you haven’t acted like this since… ‘before you lost your family’…”

 

His voice was quiet, afraid that he would strike the wrong chord in Makoto. Haru clenched his fists and kept his eyes shut tight when he felt the warmth leave his cheek. He prepared to be hit- something that Makoto had never done, but was not new to him-, but even after a few moments there was no impact. Slowly, he opened his eyes, only to see Makoto looking at him like he always did, wearing the same smile full of affection; yet this time there was something mixed in with it- pain.

 

“…Do you want to know what happened?” Makoto’s voice cracked, but Haru ignored it. _“Yes,_ ” He thought, moving closer to Makoto and tucking his legs under him, so his knees were touching Makoto’s thigh. He found himself wanting to know _everything_ about Makoto; every single insignificant detail that probably doesn’t mean anything but would matter to Haru anyway. It was strange, he didn’t usually care to hear people’s life stories, but something about Makoto made him want to know more.

 

“Tell me everything.”

 

Makoto’s eyes twinkled with a strange, sad light, and he took a deep breath, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his white dress shirt. Haru could already tell that this story did not have a happy ending.

 

“When I was 18, or 5 years ago, I accidentally made a yakuza who belonged to this group spill his alcohol on the sidewalk. His name was Atsushi,” he spit out the name as if it were scalding poison, burning his mouth, “he gave me the choice of basically living or dying. Being the fool I was, I picked to live. I regret it a lot, truthfully.”

 

“I was a really good kid. I was nice and kind and I actually cared about my grades and shit. I was set on going to Todai, but…” He cleared his throat, and Haru could see how upset this was making him. It was painful to watch, and Haru found himself shaking a bit.

 

“The first few months were awful. I was absolutely revolted by the idea of becoming a yakuza, so I refused to do everything they told me. They beat me, burned me, I remember this one time they tied me to a post outside for three days,” he laughed darkly and hunched over, putting his head in his hands.

 

“What Yamazaki meant was, that they let me call my family if I behaved well. All I cared about was the safety of my family. Especially Re- Ren and Ran… my baby siblings. They meant everything to me. They were the only reason I had to keep fighting. I loved them so much, Haruka. So much.”

 

“And they burned them.”

 

Haru sat in silence, shocked by the sudden truth of Makoto’s past. _Burned_? The thought made Haru sick to his stomach, and he felt a sudden chill, like his skin had began to freeze over. He could not think of a word to describe how vile and cruel that was. Who would burn an eighteen year old’s family? Yakuza were vicious, but this…

 

“They trapped them inside the house and set it on fire.” Makoto’s voice wavered now, and his broad back trembled slightly. Haru put his hand on his shoulder and rubbed it soothingly, and bent down to try and look at Makoto. His hands clutched his face desperately, like he was trying to hold himself together.

 

As gently as he could manage, Haru brushed his fingers over Makoto’s hands, trying to show him it was alright, and gently pulled them away from his eyes.

 

The bright jasmine eyes were shining, filled with so much pain and hurt that Haru could barely look longer than a few seconds. When something slid out of his eyes and dropped to his cheek, Haru let out a dry sob of his own.

 

Makoto was crying.

 

Without even thinking about it, he immediately wrapped his arms around Makoto’s head and pulled him into his chest, resting his chin on the soft brown locks. Makoto let out a choked sound and weakly wrapped his arms around Haru’s sides, clinging to the fabric of his t-shirt with shaky, clammy hands.

 

“They killed them… they were just children…” he sobbed, his muffled voice sending vibrations through Haru’s chest. He said it over and over again, each time cutting deeper and deeper into Haru’s heart. _They killed them, they killed them, they killed them_ -

 

“Shh, Makoto, it’s…” he was about to say _alright_ , but he knew that would be a lie. It would never be alright. Makoto would never get his family back, and saying it was ‘alright’ would be cruel. He decided not to say anything more, to just try and comfort him as best he could without words. Haru softly carded his fingers through the messy brown hair, doing it over and over until Makoto’s sobs quieted and were gradually reduced to sniffling. When he tried to get Makoto to lift his head, he tightened his grip around Haru’s waist and pushed his head into his chest.

 

“No, I don’t want you to look at me.” His voice was hoarse yet serious, so Haru settled for tracing patterns in his back lightly with his finger. “I’ve never cried in front of someone like this before. I’m pathetic.”

 

“You’re not pathetic.” Haru murmured, leaning closer to his ear, “It’s okay to cry. I don’t care.”

 

Makoto let out a soft whimper, and Haru could feel his shirt begin to dampen again. Haru swallowed hard, trying to hold back tears of his own that threatened to spill out from his dark lashes. There had never been a time in his life where he’d cried for someone, not even when Rin unleashed his murky background to him. It was almost as if Haru could _feel_ Makoto’s pain, could feel it slowly ebb away at the edges of his heart, and he desperately wanted to try and comfort Makoto, bandage him up in any way possible.

 

“Makoto,” Haru murmured, stroking his back, “I know you love me, and I’m not going to reject your feelings, but… I can’t accept them yet, either. I don’t know if what I’m feeling is love or something else, but I… I’ll make sure to give you an answer when I know, okay? Although… I want you to keep in mind that I can’t fix your past, so please don’t use me as some sort of glue. But I want to help you rebuild and recover, piece by piece.”

 

He felt Makoto’s arms snake around his waist and was squeezed tightly; the action held the words Makoto couldn’t bring himself to say.

 

“That’s okay,” he said, lifting his head. Haru blinked furiously, trying to chase away the hot prickle of tears. Makoto’s eyes were slightly puffy and red, and his bottom lip trembled, yet he still had a smile on his face.

 

“As long as you’re here, and as long as you’re thinking about it, it’s fine. Thank you.”

 

Haru gave a light laugh, happy that Makoto wasn’t upset by his words. He leaned forward and slid his hands up Makoto’s back and onto each of his cheeks, and planted a soft, chaste kiss on the tip of his nose.

 

Makoto’s eyes widened in surprise, and he gave a weak chuckle. He mumbled something and buried his face in the crook of Haru’s neck. He was going to ask what he had said, but Haru figured that if he didn’t hear it, it probably wasn’t meant to be heard.

 

They sat there, legs entwined and hands resting on one another, listening to the soft lull of the music and the steady drum of rain against the windows. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the two slowly drifted off to sleep in the dim light of the living room, forgetting the cruel reality of the world- even if just for a moment.

 

**

 

Even while he slept, Makoto could hear the soft, even beats of the heart that laid under his ear. As he gradually began waking up, he could also hear the sound of quiet breathing coming from above his head and feel it hit his hair in a soothing pattern.

 

When Makoto tried to open his eyes, they stuck shut. They seemed to be glued together, or maybe, Makoto thought, he’d just gone blind. Confused, he withdrew a hand that was trapped under the warm body beneath him and scrubbed at his face, and blinked.

 

It had to be early- the living room was bathed in an orange hue, and Makoto could hear the birds chirping outside in the trees. He slowly started to raise his upper body, but was stopped when he felt a hand rested on his back. Makoto looked down to see Haruka, mouth open slightly as he slept, and shirt ridden up to reveal his pale stomach. It took him a few seconds to remember just _why_ they were sleeping on the couch, and just _why_ it was so hard for him to open his eyes.

 

Like a bullet, it hit him- the emotion, the tears, everything he had said and done the previous night came rushing back to him like a tidal wave he wasn’t prepared for. Makoto quickly glanced down to check that Haru was still asleep before putting a hand to his eyes, and felt the dry track of tears which had come in gallons only hours ago. He gulped, trying to moisten his dry throat before letting out a shaky breath.

 

That was the first time Makoto had said what had happened to him out loud. Before, he’d always just push it farther and farther behind the wall he had built around himself, but when Haruka told him to say it, it crashed forth, completely shattering Makoto’s façade and unleashing all the years of pent up anger and agony in one fell swoop. It felt good in a way, getting it all off of his chest after it sat there, rotting and festering into a venomous hatred.

 

He gently prodded under his eye to see how puffy they were, and surprisingly, they weren’t that bad. Letting out a little sigh, he rested his head back on Haruka’s chest, tucking his arm under his back again. Makoto closed his eyes, and let himself drift off as he listened to the drum of both his and Haruka’s hearts.

 

Just as he began to fall asleep, there was a loud, earthshattering _bang_ on his front door. It seemed to shake the whole apartment, and he knew that none of his men would knock like that. Makoto jolted up, moving to cover Haruka with his body.

 

 _“Fuck,_ ” he thought, as he waited for another bang. He could here footsteps outside the door, but nothing besides that. The first thought that went through his mind was that Matsuoka had figured it out and had come to take Haruka back, probably armed and ready to kill.  The nearest gun was under the kitchen sink behind the soap, but he didn’t want to risk leaving Haruka exposed.

 

Makoto glanced down at Haruka, who was –somehow- still sleeping, and hugged him a little tighter before calling out.

 

“Who’s there?”

 

Everything seemed to stop in that moment. The birds no longer chirped, the radio seemed to be muted- complete and utter silence ensnared the room. There was no response beyond the door, like whoever was out there got cold feet and didn’t want to talk.

 

He heard mumbling and looked down at Haruka again, who was slowly blinking his eyes open. When he saw Makoto, a look of confusion crossed his face and he began to speak, but Makoto quickly put a hand over his mouth and made a _shh_ gesture, then pointed towards the door. Haruka’s sapphire eyes widened in fear and he quickly nodded his head.

 

Makoto tried again, this time in a harsher tone. “I said, who’s there!”

 

He was answered with three, soft knocks on the door; very different from the first noise. Looking from Haruka to the door, then back to Haruka, he came up with an idea. Makoto bent his head down so that his lips nearly brushed his ear, and whispered as quietly as he could.

 

“When I get up, I want you to run to the bedroom, and under the bed in a briefcase are some guns. The code to unlock it is 6-3-0. Get one and barricade yourself in the room until I come get you.”

 

He quickly nodded, and Makoto gave him a smile, trying to say “ _It’s going to be fine._ ” But even he wasn’t sure of that.

 

Makoto slid off of Haruka, and crept over to the kitchen. He heard footsteps and then a door shutting softly, followed by a click of a lock. Now at ease that he was somewhat safe, he opened the cupboard beneath the sink and reached behind the extra dish soap he always had. His hand came in contact with cold, sleek metal, and he hastily grabbed it, pulling it out of the dark cabinet.

 

Taking a quick glance to make sure it was loaded, he made his way to the front door and braced a hand on the knob. He listened, straining his ears to make out any sort of noise that would indicate who was on the other side. There was some quiet murmuring, but he could not hear the clicking of guns or the clatter of weapons.

 

A cold sweat had begun to form above his brow, and he tightened his grip on the handle. Mixed emotions of anxiety and fear swirled around inside him like a hurricane, ready to start storming any minute. There was no way that Makoto would allow them to take Haruka.

 

“ _I will_ not _let him have Haruka back_ ,” he vowed silently to himself, gritting his teeth. With his resolve now set, Makoto took one final gulp of air, and unlocked the door, swinging it open with one hand and pointing the gun with the other.

 

“W-Wah~! Mako-chan, don’t point your gun at me!”

 

Just beyond the head of the gun were a pair of electric pink eyes, widened in amusement. It took a few moments, but Makoto finally registered the bright yellow hair, the wide, teasing grin-

 

“Oh my _god_ , Nagisa! I could’ve shot you- do you know how much of a mess you would’ve made?” he growled, trying to keep himself from keeling over in relief. Nagisa was doubled over, shaking in laughter.

 

“How cruel, Mako-chan, how cruel! Did I really scare you that bad?”

 

Makoto felt a small prickle of pain when Nagisa’s voice sang out the word _Mako-chan_ , remembering what happened at their previous meeting. He let it go, hardly in the mood to start a fight.

 

His assistant -Ryugazaki, if he remember correctly- was standing behind him, glaring at Nagisa from behind his red glasses, with a sort of ‘ _you-are-the-biggest-idiot-I-have-ever-seen’_ look.

 

“Please pardon Hazuki-sama, Tachibana-san,” Ryugazaki bowed, the words coming out like a sigh, “he was so excited to see you, he-… he ran right into your door at full speed…”

 

“Ahh, that really hurt…” Nagisa cooed, wiping his eyes. Both Makoto and Ryugazaki rolled their eyes simultaneously as Nagisa held his stomach and tried to calm himself down. He could see the red mark right smack in the middle of Nagisa’s forehead, and couldn’t suppress the soft chuckle that escaped his lips. “ _He really hasn’t changed,_ ” he thought to himself as he stuffed the gun in his back pocket. No wonder the bang on his door had been so loud; Nagisa was small, but he was still powerful.

 

“So, why are you here?” Makoto huffed, leaning against the doorframe. He thought about calling out to Haruka, but he wasn’t sure as to how Nagisa would react; he decided to play it safe, for now.

 

“Well, for one thing, you never got back to me on my business proposal.” Nagisa chided, and pointed behind him to Ryugazaki, who held up a large, black briefcase in one hand.

 

“And your assistant Yamazaki-kun called me asking for a favor.”

 

“…A favor?”

 

Nagisa pouted, and flicked Makoto on the head. “Don’t play dumb! He said you’d need extra help for this ‘plan’ of yours!”

 

Frowning and rubbing his throbbing forehead, he silently cursed Sousuke, making sure he’d pay for this later. He definitely had not mentioned anything to Sousuke about ‘needing extra help’, but it’d be too much of a pain to send the two away. “Alright, come in.” Makoto sighed, and withdrew from the doorway. As Nagisa and Ryugazaki let themselves in, he walked down the hall to his bedroom. He knocked softly, trying not to startle Haruka.

 

“Hey, it’s okay to come out. False alarm.” After he spoke, he heard some shuffling and then the click of the lock. The door opened slightly, and he could see a large, blue orb staring at him cautiously. “See? It’s fine.” He chuckled, and pushed the door open, showing him that he was alright. Haruka sighed in relief, and handed the gun he had gotten to Makoto.

 

“Who was it?” he asked, watching as Makoto put the gun back in the briefcase with a quick _snap_.

 

“An old friend and current business partner. He’s here to help.”

 

Makoto motioned for Haruka to follow him as he left the room and walked back down the hall. He could hear Nagisa’s tantalizing voice and the stuttering of his assistant, so he cleared his throat before making himself visible. The two, now seated on the couch, looked to Makoto; Ryugazaki had a furious blush slapped across his cheeks and Nagisa looked as if he had just won the lottery.

 

Makoto gestured to Haruka with his hand, and he bowed. “This is Nanase Haruka, my-“

 

“ _UWAAH! MAKO-CHAN HAS A LOVER?!_ ” Makoto was interrupted by Nagisa’s piercing wail, and could feel blood rush to his face as he stood there, frozen to the ground. Haruka was also flushed in the face, only causing Nagisa to freak out further. “He’s so cute, Mako-chan!”

 

Part of Makoto was grateful to Nagisa for finishing his sentence- he didn’t know what to introduce Haruka as. He felt it would’ve been inconsiderate to Haruka to call him his ‘lover’, because Haruka had made it clear that he wasn’t sure of his feelings. But to call him an ‘assistant’ or ‘fuck-buddy’ would’ve been no different than calling him a toy; something that Makoto had sworn to Haruka that he wasn’t.

 

“W-well, Nagisa, I don’t know if-” Makoto stammered, trying to comfort both himself and the blushing boy next to him, but he was cut off once again by Nagisa, who had rushed over to his side and was currently playing with a very uncomfortable Haruka’s cheeks.

 

“Ohh, Mako-chaaan~,” he purred, ignoring Haruka’s attempts to swat him away, “why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’m going to call him Haru-chan!”

 

“Drop shha ‘shan’.” Haruka muttered, words slurred as a result of Nagisa’s fingers prodding and pulling his cheeks. The blond laughed giddily and finally ceased his attack, drawing away from them both and taking a seat back on the couch.

 

“Oii, Haru-chan, you want to come work for me at my club? You’d be a nice addition.” Makoto quickly glanced over at Haruka, and saw the fear flash through his eyes. He shot forward, startling Nagisa.

 

 

“No way.” They deadpanned in unison. Nagisa giggled, and waved a hand in their direction.

 

“Just kidding, jeez.”

 

While Haruka pouted and rubbed his red cheeks, Makoto made his way over to a chair and plopped down. Ryugazaki held a notepad and a pen at the ready, and Nagisa crossed his legs, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

 

“So,” He drawled, baring his teeth in a large grin, “what do you need help with?”

 

“We just need some reinforcements in case things go awry. We’re going to be doing a false trade with the Crystal Sharks, so we’re vamping up security at the location.” Makoto said as Ryugazaki scribbled away on his notepad. “Think you can lend us a hand?”

 

“I suppose, if it’s for Haru-chan.” Nagisa winked at Haruka, who was now standing behind Makoto’s chair.

 

“I said, drop the ‘chan’.” He muttered, causing Makoto to chuckle.

 

“Thank you Nagisa. I appreciate it.”

 

“Mh!” Nagisa nodded, “Just give me the details and we’ll be there.”

 

The rest of their time was spent going over the exchange, and finalizing the documents for the Bell Orca’s role in Nagisa’s businesses. Makoto decided that they would provide protection if necessary for the club, if they got 45% - _Mako-chan, don’t be such a hardass!_ \- ,40% of the clubs earnings. By the time the duo left, the sun was fully in the sky, drying up the rain from the previous night.

 

Makoto lounged in the chair, slowly smoking a cigar. He watched Haruka in the kitchen, working to make a light breakfast for the both of them. His blue eyes glittered in concentration as he washed the rice- a task so simple, yet made so elegant by his demeanor.

 

“You know,” Makoto joked, loud enough to be heard over the running faucet, “I kind of like the whole ‘Haru-chan’ thing.”

 

Haruka shot Makoto a glare. “Don’t even start.”

 

Makoto began laughing at the look he was being given, and only laughed harder and harder as Haruka’s look grew more annoyed. Haruka finally looked away, and pouted at the rice he was washing- scrubbing a little too hard. Makoto was bent over, cradling his aching stomach as he tried to subdue his lingering giggles. He was unable to wipe the smile off his face, but it felt good, anyway.

 

When he glanced back up though, he swore he could see a tiny, warm smile dancing on Haruka’s lips too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> makoto crying was a really hard scene to write because he was opening himself up to haruka and he cried and ahsifdhsidofheuwiohfdjs  
>  **anyway,**  
>  hope you all are enjoying your thanksgiving break (if you don't have one, i'm sorry) and i hope you all enjoy this chapter!  
> i think we might be nearing the end of this story, but I'm not too sure... still a couple chapters to go, though. idk.  
> leave a comment or hit me up at otomeflakes.tumblr.com (✿◠‿◠)


	6. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“No,” he breathed, looking down at Makoto lecherously, “’wanna do it like this.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a short filler chapter that was going to be fluffy but turned out to be smut  
> enjoy

Two days after the plan had been finalized, Makoto and Haruka were both sitting in the living room, relaxing. Makoto was reading a large novel on the couch that he’d been working on for quite some time, and Haruka sat on the floor near him, and drew on his sketchpad (one of the many things he had requested) while the news played quietly on the television.

 

Makoto was so absorbed in his book that he didn’t notice warm hands trailing up and down his thighs, each time rubbing closer and closer to his crotch. It was only when he heard the sound of a zipper – _his_ zipper- that he moved his book aside, only to see Haruka kneeling in front of him with his hands tearing his dress pants open.

 

“H-Haruka!? What are you doing?!” He cried out, jumping so hard the book flew out of his hands and onto the floor with a dull thud. Haruka looked up at him with a dark brow arched, as if to say “ _What does it look like I’m doing_?”

 

Makoto fumbled to removed his glasses and set them aside, and grabbed Haruka’s hand before they could further disrupt his trousers.

 

“Why are you stopping me?” He asked, confused. Makoto could feel his ears heat up as he opened and closed his mouth like a fish searching for water, trying to come up with an answer. Haruka stared up at him, head tilted like a puzzled puppy. “ _Why_ am _I stopping him?”_ he thought.

 

“First answer me. What are you doing?” Makoto tried again, letting his grip on Haruka’s hands slacken. That turned out to be a big mistake, because his hands immediately began attacking Makoto’s pants again, this time managing to pull his boxers down to the point where a few dark brown hairs could be seen. Even though Makoto stopped him just in time, Haruka wore a roguish grin.

 

“I wanna blow you.”

 

Makoto could feel his cock twitch violently and he quickly tried to move away from Haruka’s prying hands, tried desperately to escape, because there was _no_ way in hell that Makoto’s heart could handle this; but Haruka had locked him in place, hands tightly gripping his thighs and his mouth dangerously close to the front of his boxers, tongue hanging out almost teasingly. He let out a little whimper and tried to quell his throbbing heart as Haruka’s hot breath ghosted over the fabric.

 

“ _Think normal thoughts!”_ he thought to himself, and squeezed his eyes shut. “ _Laundry, washing dishes, making the bed, playing cards…!_ ”

 

“Makoto?” He purred, his breath skimming over the sensitive skin of his navel.  Makoto groaned and peeked one eye open to glance down at the body in-between his legs, unable to resist the honeyed voice that so delicately sang his name. The sight of Haruka on his knees with a blushing face and needy eyes did nothing to help Makoto, rather he was now almost fully hard underneath his blue boxers.

 

“W-What has gotten into you…?” He rasped as Haruka began tugging his boxers down, exposing more and more of his hot flesh to the cool air. Makoto knew that if he didn’t stop him soon,-

 

“Dunno. Just feel like sucking you off.” He grinned as he fully exposed Makoto’s flushed length. He moaned as Haruka’s breaths now directly hit his skin, causing heat to pool in his lower stomach.

 

“H-Haruka, wai-ah!” Makoto jolted forwards as he felt Haruka’s hand stroke him slowly, teasingly, and it took every ounce of self-control he had to not come right then and there. His delicate hands moved slowly from the base to the tip, where he’d gently run his thumb over Makoto’s slit, each time sending electric shocks of pleasure through Makoto’s body.

 

Haruka licked his shaft starting from the base and all the way up to the sensitive area just under the head, repeating the action several times to elicit low, guttural moans from deep within Makoto’s throat. Haruka had never taken the lead before, and in all honesty, it scared Makoto quite a bit. He was always in control- he felt _safe_ while he was in control. He liked to know what was going to happen and when it was going to happen.

 

But, something about Haruka _wanting_ to do this filled Makoto’s chest with a strange tingle of admiration. If anything, this was his way of showing Makoto that he wasn’t afraid. He was comfortable and that he didn’t feel the need to keep himself in that rock hard shell of his; this was his way of showing that he has opened up to Makoto without having to say it. It was strange to get sentimental when someone was sucking your dick, but Makoto couldn’t help it. As much as he wanted to deny it, he was a closet-romantic.

 

Makoto gently held the nape of Haruka’s neck, rubbing his fingers along the fine wisps of hair as Haruka swirled his tongue around the head of his cock before taking it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and lapping at it. Makoto hissed and arched of the couch, desperate for more.

 

Haruka got the message, and chuckled quietly before taking him all in, in one swift movement. Makoto could feel the head of his shaft hit deep within his throat, and he temporarily saw stars, gasping at the unyielding pleasure that shot from his groin to the tips of his fingers and toes. Haruka bobbed his head _agonizingly_ slow, whilst staring up at Makoto with glazed, half-lidded eyes. When he’d swallow around it, Makoto could only do so much in order not to grab his hair and just fuck his mouth; of course, he’d never do that – he really didn’t want to be rough or cruel, as he was afraid of triggering something in Haruka (and thought of him as something so precious he wouldn’t want to cause him any harm). So, he settled for carding his fingers through the silky dark hair while Haruka hummed around him contently.

 

Just as Makoto started to feel an orgasm pool deep in his stomach, Haruka’s head left him with a wet _pop_ , creating a long trail of saliva connecting his lips with Makoto’s length. He groaned at the loss _and_ at the sight before him, but hardly had time to complain before Haruka stood.

 

“Can’t do it anymore.” He grumbled and turned away, walking over to the side of the couch. Makoto felt panic bubble up inside him, and his erection was quickly forgotten as the weight of Haruka’s words settled in, crushing his heart. What did he mean, _can’t do it anymore_? Had he been pretending? Had he been pretending the _whole time_? Makoto felt his stomach churn and he thought he might vomit.

 

“Haruka, whatever I did, I’m sor-” he began to apologize, but was rendered speechless when he saw Haruka back in front of him, only this time he was holding-

 

“Where… did you get those?” Makoto’s voice came out meekly, and he could practically feel the steam rolling off of him in heated waves. There, in Haruka’s hands, were none other than a familiar white tube (contents now almost gone,) and a shiny gold packet.

 

“What,” Haruka grinned, “these?” He dangled the two objects in front of Makoto’s face, laughing as Makoto stared at them dumbly, mouth agape. He looked over to where Haruka had retreated a moment ago, and saw his sketchbook on the couch, opened to the very back cover – and attached to the back cover was a pocket, presumably for holding pencils and such; in this case, though, it carried much more… _private_ , items. It clicked when Makoto realized the reason Haruka had taken so long to come out of their room.

 

“…Did you plan to do this all along…?”

 

“Jeez, Makoto, what’s with the third degree?” Haruka laughed and set the items on the couch besides Makoto, then promptly took, no, _ripped_ off his pants and boxers – Makoto didn’t know how, but Haruka had an unholy ability for taking off his trousers at lighting speeds – and straddled his lap.  He noticed that not only was Haruka also sporting an erection, but was already dribbling precum. The sight sent Makoto’s ‘nice-guy’ act flying out the window, replaced with a deep, hungry desire.

 

“Mmh, look how hard you’ve gotten just from sucking my dick,” Makoto cooed and reached a hand down between them, grasping Haruka’s own erection and giving it a few quick strokes, spreading the pearly liquid over it.

 

Haruka whined and bucked into Makoto’s slick palm, while he settled his hands on Makoto’s shoulders for more stability. Makoto relished the feeling of his nails digging into his skin through his shirt, sending shots of pain and pleasure right to his cock. He flicked his wrist around Haruka’s length, drawing out another lewd whine.

 

While his one hand was busy pleasuring Haruka, he moved his other to get the lube, and with some difficulty, managed to uncap it and squeeze some out onto his fingers, making a mess on the couch in the process. “ _There’s gonna be a lot more to worry about then a lube stain,_ ” he chuckled to himself and moved the hand around behind Haruka, lightly grazing his entrance with a wet finger.

 

He slipped his finger in, pumping it in and out at a pace set by the rocking of Haruka’s hips. He slipped in a second, then third- he was surprised by how easily he was taking his fingers. While he scissored and curled them inside Haruka, petting his sweet spot over and over, his own aching length became more and more painful as the sounds of Haruka’s loud moans reached his ears.

 

He removed both hands from Haruka (earning a load groan in protest) and wasted no time in ripping the condom packet open, putting it on, and slicking himself up with the remaining lube. Making a note that he would have to get more, he tossed it aside and went to flip Haruka over, but his hands were abruptly slapped away.

 

“No,” he breathed, looking down at Makoto lecherously, “’wanna do it like this.”

 

Makoto, having no reason to deny him, settled his hands on Haruka’s hips and rubbed them, feeling the sweet contour of his waist and basking in the greatness that was Nanase Haruka.

 

“Fine,” he crooned, and watched as Haruka’s eyes lit up, “take the lead.”

 

Haruka hummed, a pleased look making its way onto his face as he grabbed Makoto’s cock and positioned himself above it. The sight was so alluring that it was very difficult to remain still; as much as he wanted to thrust upwards into the dark haired beauty, he knew that Haruka probably hadn’t had many situations that he was allowed control of. Makoto preoccupied himself with watching, content enough to just get to _witness_ , as Haruka slowly began to lower himself on his length.

 

“Be careful, don’t go too fa- _aaahst!_ ” Makoto barely had time to choke out the words before Haruka seated himself deeply on Makoto’s cock. Both of them let out a moan – Makoto’s was more out of surprise, though. “If you do that, you’ll hurt yourself…” he panted as Haruka bit his lip, waiting to adjust.

 

“It’s fine, Makoto.” he sighed pleasurably, and gave an experimental roll of his hips. Makoto almost swallowed his tongue in an effort to choke back the wanton sob that threatened to spill from him.

 

“Besides, I prepared myself before you did. Back in the room before I came out, I- _ow!_ ” Haruka hissed and clenched his teeth when Makoto thrust into him, unannounced.

 

“Don’t get harder while you’re _in_ me, Makoto!” He whined, and leaned forward to nibble at Makoto's ear. He bit down - rather hard - and drew a moan from Makoto, who twisted his own head around to lightly suck on Haruka's neck in return.

 

“Sorry,” he panted, tightening his grip on Haruka’s hips, “but you can’t say shit like that and not expect me to get aroused.”

 

“Well- _oh_ ,” Haruka’s snarky reply was cut short when Makoto drove himself into him, brushing past Haruka’s prostate. On the next thrust, Haruka rolled his hips in time with Makoto’s, setting a fast, lustful pace. The couch squeaked as the movements of Makoto’s hips became more precise, snapping forward and up in order to reach the spot buried deep within Haruka with each thrust.

 

Their moans mingled with each other’s as they dived into a sloppy kiss. Their tongues fought desperately for dominance, and in the end Makoto was just too powerful for Haruka. He traced along the inside of his mouth and swallowed up each noise that threatened to break through Haruka’s lips. Haruka lightly bit his tongue, which startled Makoto, and used the distraction to allow _his_ tongue to now be in charge. Even though Makoto protested, he allowed it; it was interesting to see what Haruka would do.

 

He continued driving into Haruka, each time getting deeper and deeper as the sweet heat sucked him in. In his libidinous haze, he removed a hand from Haruka's waist and began stroking his hard, neglected cock. He let out a mewl as Makoto jerked him off in time to his thrusts, smearing the sticky liquid from the head of his shaft to his balls, occasionally cupping them before moving back to the head to run a teasing finger along the slit.

 

Makoto’s thrusts became sloppier and sloppier and he felt himself reaching his climax. He could tell that Haruka was coming close too, because he kept biting Makoto’s bottom lip in-between kisses, teeth digging into the tender flesh harder and harder each time. His hands had moved from Makoto’s shoulders to his hair, now grabbing fistfuls of it and tugging gently. Haruka’s hips were slippery with sweat and he knew that he couldn’t last much longer, so with one final, deep thrust he let out a low cry and came, followed shortly by Haruka.

 

Cum-covered and tired out, the two sat there, breath heavy and minds blank. Haruka seemed to be _completely_ out of it, so as gently as he could manage he lifted him and slid out, laying him down on the couch. Makoto got up with shaky legs and discarded the used rubber into a nearby wastebasket, then went and retrieved a few paper towels. He wiped off Haruka, then himself, put on some sweatpants, and once everything was taken care of, he sat back down next to Haruka’s head, and gently carded his fingers through the damp, dark locks.

 

Haruka sighed contently and stretched his arms up into the air. Looking like a cat more than ever, Makoto found himself chuckling. Haruka looked up at him and smiled – it wasn’t a half assed smile, either. It was a genuine smile that Makoto himself had only seen once or twice in the week that he had spent with him. The surge of adoration that squeezed at his heart was almost too much; it hurt, but in a good way, and Makoto wanted more.

 

“Hey, Haruka,” he laughed, tapping him playfully on the nose, “hurry up and fall in love with me.”

 

Immediately Haruka’s cheeks grew bright red, standing out visibly against his pale skin. He let out a little huff before he sat up, and started searching for his pants. Makoto smiled as he watched him scramble around the room naked in attempt to find his lost article of clothing, but he could feel a deep sting in his chest. Getting no answer was disheartening, and he felt great melancholy, even though he knew that Haruka being able to return his feelings was a long shot. Still, every touch, every word, only deepened his affection for the blue-eyed man.

 

So, Makoto was surprised when he heard a quiet, shy grumble from across the room.

 

“I’m getting there.”

 

This time, it was Makoto’s turn to blush. He quickly brought up a hand up to his face to cover the prickling heat that spread across his cheeks and nose like wildfire.

 

“God,” he mumbled affectionately, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> foreshadowing...╚(•⌂•)╝...?  
> next chapter is going to be _very_ intense so it might take a little longer to write  
>  so don't be sad if there isn't an update this weekend! don't worry, it's coming!  
> i wrote this quickly so i apologize for errors, (i really need someone to beta for me but i don't have the foggiest idea what to do about it since im fairly new to this) if you see one, let me know!  
> drop a comment or hit me up at otomeflakes.tumblr.com ♥  
>  **Edit**  
>  if anyone would like to beta chapter 7 for me, let me know on my tumblr! i am desperate and it's sad (∩︵∩)  
> if no one takes the offer, chapter seven should be out between **December 8th-9th, 2014**... tomorrow or tuesday!


	7. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Everything was red._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ps- no, the summary does not refer to a taylor swift song... no

 

Everyone sat and watched with bated breath as Makoto held the phone in his palm, extended outwards, as the shrill ring sounded throughout the room. It was decided that it was best for Makoto to do the talking, but his men still had the desire to listen to the conversation - to listen to their boss go into that mode where he could take down an entire army if needed. Sousuke sat beside Makoto, legs raised and set on the table. He held a notepad and pen, which he was supposed to be writing notes down with, but was instead busy doodling.

 

On the second to last ring, there was a soft click. Time seemed to stand still, as everyone waited for a sound from the phone, or any indication someone was there. All eyes –even Sousuke’s- were on the screen of the device, anxiously awaiting an answer. The meeting room had a tense, heavy air over it and was obviously affecting his men; Makoto however, had to bite his cheek to refrain from laughing.

 

“Who is this?” the voice that came from the speaker sounded strained, yet was laced with enough poison to kill a man. There were some murmurs and gasps but Makoto quickly held a finger to his lips and closed his eyes.

 

“Ah, Matsuoka” he greeted cheerily, and heard a choked sound from the phone. Grinning, he turned up the volume up in order to hear the angry growls already coming from the other end of the line.

 

“It would seem that my group and I have stumbled upon something of yours- rather, something that  _was_  yours.” The reaction from Matsuoka was immediate. There was an angry yell and a bout of crackled curses from his end; everyone could hear his hurried footsteps and booming yells, and  _god_ , was Makoto having fun.

 

“I presume you know what I’m talking about?”

 

“Tachibana! Listen you son of a bitch,” Matsuoka hissed, “if you’re referring to Haru, you better hurry and ship him back here or I  _swear_  to fucking god, I will  _end you_!”

 

“Oi, oi, play nice,” he purred, unable to suppress the mocking tone of his voice, “You know how this works,  _Rin_. I’m not going to ‘ship’ him back to you. He’s not an object. In order for me to give him back, I want something in return.”

 

 “Fuck, fine! Whatever, just tell me. Make it quick.”

 

Makoto hummed in amusement and swiveled around in his chair. “I want your hotel.”

 

“The hotel?” Matsuoka spluttered in surprise, “S’that all you want? Fine. It’s yours, you can have it. Just give me Haru back.” Makoto could hear the pain buried under the cold words. Matsuoka really,  _really_ wanted Haruka back – but Makoto was the one with the upper hand, and he was sure he valued Haruka a hell of a lot more than this bastard did.

 

“I’m glad you’re good at negotiating, Rin- _chan_ ,” he was met with an irritated growl that did nothing but further his amusement. “Now all we need to discuss is an exchange time, and an exchange place. If you don’t mind, we already have them set. I am  _not_  willing to bargain on this.”

 

There was a long sigh, a desperate one, before his voice could be heard again. It was lower this time, less cruel.

 

“Let me talk to him, so I know he’s there and you’re just not yankin’ my chain.”

 

Makoto flicked a wrist in the direction of the door, and in stepped Haruka. He wore a blank, emotionless expression as he walked towards Makoto; it was almost if he was afraid of the phone, or maybe afraid of who was on it. Makoto nodded to him reassuringly, and he bent down so that his face was near the receiver, lips trembling as he began to speak.

 

“Hi.”

 

Barely audible, the phrase rushed out as if it was a sin to say. Haruka quickly stood back up and retreated behind Makoto, placing a hand on his shoulder. He could tell that Haruka was nervous, frightened, even, but didn’t want to speak to him in case of missing Matsuoka’s reply. Makoto brought his free hand up to where Haruka’s clamped his shoulder, and rested his upon it.

 

“Oh my god Haruka, how could you? You let them kidnap you and you don’t even make an  _attempt_ to escape or contact me? Do you know how fucking worried I was about you? I couldn’t fucking sleep!” The words came out in an angry storm filled with both rage and hurt. Haruka visibly flinched, so Makoto patted his hand.

 

“You’ve just missed fucking me,” He mumbled angrily, but Makoto quickly covered the words with a loud, well timed cough – although it sounded suspiciously like a laugh. The last thing he needed was for Matsuoka to get even angrier than he was and start causing a whole shitload of other stupid, insignificant problems.

 

“Well, he’s here, healthy and unharmed. I believe this is enough proof, so I want you to listen carefully,” he paused, took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose, “we will meet you at the Iwatobi scrapyard at 11:00 PM this coming Wednesday – the day after tomorrow. If there is any show of violence, any gunfire, anything that would be of harm to us, we  _will_  take action against you. Don’t be late.”

 

With those final words, he pressed ‘ _end call_ ’ without giving Matsuoka even a second to reply. The room was utterly silent before one yakuza leaning up against the wall let out a low whistle.

 

“Jeez, Oyassan,” he sighed admirably, “that was pretty cool.”

 

The man’s statement was met with murmurs and nods of agreement as they begun talking amongst themselves. Makoto couldn’t help but smile as he watched his subordinates banter about how excited they were to be a part of the mission, their faces gleaming with excitement. He was glad everyone was pumped, but at the same time he was… worried.  Worried that these men would lose their lives if something were to go astray.

 

“Alright, alright, get out of here. Begin preparing or something.” He laughed and dismissed them, and watched them file out the doors. Sousuke remained, as did Haruka, and once the room was empty it was filled with an eerie sort of silence. Makoto set the phone on the table and sighed, loosening his tie.

 

 “Boss,” Sousuke muttered without looking up from the notepad, “You didn’t have to be that cruel. Think of how the guy is feeling.”

 

Makoto turned his head to the side, shocked at what he had heard. Did the  _Yamazaki Sousuke_  really just say something about  _considering feelings_?

 

“What the hell did you just say?” Makoto whispered, still unable to wrap his head around the words that had tumbled out of his assistant’s mouth. He had to be joking; there was no way he wasn’t.

 

Sousuke gave a weary sigh and glanced up from his notepad.

 

“I’m saying that you could’ve been a bit nicer. Egging him on like that could’ve blown this entire thing- or,  _or,_ ” he emphasized, “despite your ‘no violence’ warning, he could try and kill us anyways because you disrespected him like that.”

 

Makoto scoffed and snatched the notepad right out of Sousuke’s hands to get his attention. His eyes shot up, anger smoldering behind the intense teal.

 

“One; when have I ever been considered ‘nice’, Yamazaki? You’ve known me far long and far too well to know that when people see me, they don’t think ‘Oh! He looks like a nice guy!’ and two; do you think I’ve seriously not thought this through? We will have people positioned  _everywhere_  around the premises, hell, even  _Nagisa’s strippers_ are coming to help!” He threw the notepad back into Sousuke’s lap, probably harder than needed.

 

“I guess,” Sousuke sighed after a while, capping the pen and setting it on the table, “but are you really sure you want to go through with this?”

 

“Yes, I am completely sure. We’ve gone over this.”

 

They stared at each other for a long while, electricity practically crackling between the two, before Sousuke shut his eyes and sighed through his nose. He got up slowly, did his usual bow, and left the room without another word. Once the door shut Makoto let out a groan and slumped down in his chair. He knew Yamazaki only wanted what was best for him and the group, but sometimes it was a little too much.

 

“Makoto.”

 

Makoto jumped when he heard a timid whisper come from behind him, and quickly swiveled around, only to be met with the lovely blue he often found himself emerged in.

 

“Oh jeez, Haruka,” he laughed, “you scared me.”

 

Makoto smiled at him, but he could immediately sense that something was wrong. Even though Haruka was smiling too, his eyes seemed distant, far away – like he was deeply troubled. Makoto stood up and gently took his shoulder, trying to get his attention. He was worried that talking to Matsuoka had upset him, or worse – had made him miss him. Makoto knew it was a selfish thought, but he couldn’t help but feel fearful of the possibility.

 

“Hey… what’s wrong?”

 

Haruka bit his lip and glanced to the side, eyes wide. He took a breath and began to speak, but quickly quieted himself and shut his lips tight – as if he were afraid. Makoto let him take his time, although he was growing more and more anxious by the minute. He braced himself for the worst, and tried to choke down the urge to shake him and ask what was wrong. Finally, after a long while, Haruka spoke.

 

“…I’m scared.”

 

Well, Makoto hadn’t been expecting  _that_. He found himself unable to answer him, as Haruka stared at the ground, seemingly unable to look him in the eyes. Makoto wasn’t shocked per say, but he hadn’t known that Haruka had been feeling this way, which bothered him.

 

“Why?” he asked gently, squeezing Haruka’s shoulders. There was no reaction from him, except for a small flicker of his eyes.

 

“I don’t want anyone getting hurt for me. It’d just be easier for you to give me back.”

 

Makoto let his hands fall from his shoulders and took a step back. Haruka looked up and wore a slightly confused expression, but he couldn’t find the energy to care. Something about the way that Haruka had said those words, his  _demeanor_  had struck something within Makoto.

 

“Nobody is doing this for you, Haruka. I ordered it. If someone gets hurt or killed, the blame falls on me,” Makoto’s voice was smooth and even – cold.

 

“Yeah, but-“

 

“No,” he pressed, the sharpness of his words immediately silencing him. “’but’ nothing. Everything ultimately falls on my shoulders. You will not be responsible for anything that goes wrong. And you already know my feelings towards you, so how could you say ‘giving you back’ would be easier? I mean, if you really want to go back – fine. Just tell me instead of covering it up with an excuse.”

 

Makoto had known the moment the words had left his lips, that they would reveal his tainted personality. Up until now, Haruka had only seen him unguarded and completely bare; he was in work mode now, and things were obviously not going to be the same. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he’d spooked Haruka and now he  _really_  wanted to go back.

 

But, Haruka said nothing and continued staring at the floor. Makoto carded his fingers through his hair with a sigh and was about to apologize when he heard a small, faint whisper.

 

“I don’t want to burden  _you_.”

 

“Haruka,” he retorted immediately, “you are in no way shape or form a  _burden_  to me,” even though he tried to convey his feelings into words, it didn’t look like it had worked. He was still dejectedly staring at the floor, refusing to look up. Makoto only had one other idea in his head, and at this point, he was desperate. He took a step forward so that he was closer to him, and gently cupped his cheeks in his hands. Haruka’s skin was cold and soft against them, and he greatly ached to kiss him, but he knew that would have to wait. He wanted…  _needed_  to say it.

 

“Don’t you remember?” Makoto whispered, bringing his face up so that their foreheads bumped gently, “I love you.”

 

The reaction was instantaneous; his skin that was so unnaturally cold a moment ago began to heat rapidly under Makoto’s hands, and he heard a sharp intake of breath. Albeit Makoto could feel his own cheeks heat up, he was glad to have said it. In a way, he needed to hear it himself, from his own lips and with his own ears. Makoto wanted to prove that he could  _feel_  again – maybe more to himself than to others.

 

To cover up the blush that bloomed across each of their skins, Makoto softly leaned down and kissed Haruka. It wasn’t needy or passionate; rather it was slow and tender, as if he was trying to confirm his words with actions as well. Haruka let out a pleased sigh and kissed him back, relaying to Makoto that he had gotten the message.

 

“I remember,” he murmured against his lips, “thank you.”

 

Makoto gave one last quick peck for emphasis before backing away and making for the door. He kept his back to Haruka, only because he didn’t want him to see the furious redness of his face. It was embarrassing, really, and that fact only intensified the burn across his cheekbones. “ _Jeez,_ ” Makoto thought to himself, “ _to go from a scary yakuza boss to a blushing fool like this is ridiculous._ ”

 

He could hear Haruka behind him as he walked out of the meeting room and into the hallway, where many of his men lingered. Each gave a bow, along with a confused look directed at the person behind him.

 

As they walked out into the cold December air, it finally hit Makoto that this was it. If this plan of his succeeded, Haruka would be free from Matsuoka. If they acquired the deed to the hotel, it would force the Crystal Sharks  _out_  of Iwatobi – for good, he hoped – and therefore simultaneously cut all ties that bound Haruka to Matsuoka. If this worked, then maybe, just  _maybe_ , he could finally call Haruka his own.

 

If it failed, he knew there was a great chance he’d end up dead.

 

It didn’t bother him that much; living this lifestyle, death was around every corner. There was always a gun pressed to your head or a knife to your back, and you either got used to it or you kicked the bucket. It was very simple to understand, but sometimes hard to accept. You couldn’t cry and beg for mercy, there were no ‘second chances’, and everyone knew that a surefire way to die was to show weakness or remorse. Makoto was well aware of these things, and up until this point dying was not a concern of his.

 

Although now, he still wasn’t afraid of death, rather what comes  _after_  it, for himself, and now for others, too. Was there a God? Where would he go? Where would Haruka go? What would happen to Yamazaki? His men? His group? The questions were like wasps in his mind – stinging and buzzing in his brain until it began to ache.

 

For the first time, he didn’t feel scared for himself, but for others.

 

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and came back into focus with the present. He was standing outside his building, right in front of the double glass doors, with a hand on the handle. It had begun to lightly snow, and now that he was down back on earth, he realized it was really,  _really_  cold. Haruka was looking at him with a mix of concern and agitation.

 

“Ah, sorry. Let’s go in, it’s chilly.” Makoto shivered and opened the door, letting Haruka in and following shortly after. It wasn’t late, but the lobby was quiet and empty; he figured most were either playing cards or preparing for the mission. Mostly, Makoto enjoyed peace and quiet, but tonight it left an empty atmosphere. He didn’t like it.

 

**

 

Later that night, when Makoto was nearly asleep, he heard a rustling on the bed – Makoto let Haruka have the bed to himself, unless Haruka said otherwise – and rolled over on the futon, drowsy and out of it. Through his hazy vision, he registered a pair of shiny blue eyes staring down at him, wide and alert.

 

“Haruka?” he slurred, propping himself up on an elbow, “s’the matter?”

 

There was no answer. The room was cold, causing Makoto to briefly shiver and shut his eyes; when he opened them again, he could see the outline of Haruka’s figure, which was now hunched over and appeared to be shaking. Makoto was immediately pulled from his sleep induced stupor and shot up, letting the blankets fly off him in a flurry of movement. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, and saw clearly now that Haruka  _was_ shaking. His hands were tangled in his hair and Makoto could faintly make out the light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

 

“Haruka,” he repeated, now in a more serious manner, “what’s wrong?”

 

Haruka’s breaths were quick, short pants of air, and no matter how much he tried to speak, Makoto could see that his lips were trembling too much to form words. Panic was flowing through Makoto in giant, crashing waves – he felt helpless. He didn’t know what to do, at all. Makoto didn’t know if he was sick or something worse; he had never felt this helpless. He wracked his brain, trying to come up with something,  _anything_  to help him.

 

He took Haruka into his arms, wrapping his shaking form in a strong embrace. Makoto ran his hands up and down his back, shushing him gently while rocking him. It was strange at first, and he couldn’t put a finger as to why; but then he remembered the all the nights when Ren and Ran would come crying to him in the middle of the night, trembling all over with tear-stained cheeks. “ _Onii-chan!_ ” they’d cry, “ _we had a nightmare!_ ”

 

Makoto froze briefly, every muscle in his body tensing as he remembered the soft lullabies he’d sing to the two as they fell asleep in his arms, and their small, peaceful faces. It hurt to remember, it hurt  _so much_ , but he knew what he had to do. Makoto could feel a ripping sensation in his heart as he shakily breathed out the first few words to an old, old lullaby.

 

“Golden slumber, kiss your eyes,” the words were nothing more than a strangled whisper, but Haruka seemed to loosen up a bit. His breathing was becoming more and more even, so Makoto continued. “Smiles await you when you rise,”

 

“Sleep, darling baby, do not cry, and I will sing you a lullaby-”

 

Haruka let out a long, shaky sigh and brought a hand up to Makoto’s lips, where they weakly pressed against them, pushing Makoto’s words back into his mouth.

 

“Sorry,” Haruka’s voice sounded very tired, “it was just a nightmare.”

 

Makoto tilted Haruka’s chin up so that he could view his face. “Just a nightmare...? Haruka, are you sure?”

 

Haruka hesitated and gnawed at the inside of his cheek. Makoto wrapped his arms around him tighter, squeezing him reassuringly.

 

“…Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“No. It was stupid,” Haruka mumbled, moving away from Makoto, “… you already said it would be fine.”

 

“Worry ab-“ Makoto started to ask, but shut himself up when he remembered their conversation earlier that day.  _“I’m scared. I don’t want anyone getting hurt because of me. I don’t want to be a burden.”_

Haruka had retreated back under the covers, and was facing opposite to Makoto. He reached out a hand to stroke the dark, silky hair, thought better of it, and slowly withdrew, the pain in his chest growing greater with each passing second. Singing the lullaby he used with Ren and Ran opened up a fresh volley of wounds, but it was worth it – he had calmed Haruka down.

 

Heaving a light sigh, he turned to push himself off the bed.

 

“Stay.”

 

Makoto almost missed it because of the rustle of the blankets, but he caught the soft, desperate plea. Even though he had heard it, he questioned the demand anyway.

 

“What?”

 

“Stay.” Haruka had raised his voice a bit, making it clearer to Makoto as to what he was talking about. For a minute, he just sat there, confused as to what to do, but he was starting to get  _very_  chilly. As quietly as he could, he slid underneath the blankets next to Haruka, and laid on his back, not wanting to invade Haruka’s space. Although they weren’t touching, it was very warm; Makoto could feel the heat radiating from him, allowing him to get comfortable.

 

Neither of them moved for a long while. It was only when Makoto was at the brink of unconsciousness that he heard movement besides him, and then felt warmth on his chest and shoulder. He lazily brought a hand up to find the source, and felt smooth, fine hair. Makoto, albeit almost asleep, figured out that it was Haruka. He didn’t know whether he was awake or out, but he didn’t really care.

 

“Everything will be okay.” He yawned quietly and rested his palm on Haruka’s head, gently petting him. Makoto heard a quiet sigh, and with that, slowly drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

 

**

 

“Do you need my scarf?”

 

“No, Makoto, I’m fine. I already have one-“

 

“What about gloves?”

 

“Makoto!”

 

It was currently 10:45PM. The moon was full, causing the falling snow to sparkle like lights in the darkness. Of course, no one had bothered to check the weather, so when the Bell Orca’s had arrived at the scrapyard, there was already a good 3 inches on the ground and it was well below freezing. Makoto had made sure his men were all properly dressed, but even five layers of socks and double hats couldn’t keep the cold out.

 

Haruka, Sousuke, Makoto, and two others were standing in the clearing, surrounded by frozen metal and piles of junk. It wasn’t a very professional place to meet, but Makoto figured it was far enough out of town and provided lots of area for coverage. His men, along with some of Nagisa’s, were stationed around various spots, hiding and ready to fire their weapons if conflict arose. There were several vehicles nearby for the escape and everything had fallen perfectly into place. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

 

At the moment, Makoto was hounding Haruka for not wearing enough, even though he was wearing two coats, two shirts, and a bulletproof vest (Makoto had  _insisted_ ) and was perfectly toasty. Sousuke and the other two had to bite their tongues in order not to laugh at ‘Mother Makoto’ – his new nickname acquired when he made several men go back and change their clothes because “they weren’t suitable for the weather”.

 

He finally gave up on making Haruka take more clothing, and sighed. The snow was coming down a bit heavier, making it a little hard to see, but that didn’t stop him from acknowledging the concerned looks on his men’s faces. He knew they were anxious, and he had to admit he was too. They didn’t know if Matsuoka was going to show up, or if he was going to show up and ambush them – Makoto gave an involuntary shiver and sighed again. He tucked him hands into his pockets and rubbed his gloved fingers along the gun that was concealed in his trench coat pocket.

 

“Oyassan,” his earpiece crackled to life and he heard a voice, “We have movement at the east entrance; 3 cars, biggest one in the middle. Time is approximately 10:54PM. They should arrive at your location in a minute.”

 

Makoto felt his heart jump into his throat, and quickly turned to Sousuke, giving him a quick nod. His eyes widened visibly and he proceeded to put on large, black sunglasses then signaled to the other men. Without saying anything, he grabbed Haruka and moved in front of him, so that he was completely concealed behind his back.

 

“Good, get into position.” He replied into the receiver of his earpiece. Makoto then looked behind him, past Haruka, and gazed at the seemingly empty space of the yard. He took a deep breath, feeling the cold sting his throat and lungs.

 

“On the ready!” he shouted, and there was a collective “Yes, sir!” from all around, and even though he couldn’t see them, he knew that his men were there and prepared.

 

The tension in the air could be cut with a knife as they stood and waited, anxiously looking down the pathway that led to the east entrance. Makoto could feel Haruka pressed against his back, shivering – from the cold or fear, he did not know, - and opened his mouth to tell him that everything was going to be okay; he was interrupted by a blinding light that came from the darkness, causing him to draw back and almost fall into the cold, wet snow.

 

There was a murmur to his left and he felt a hand on his arm, and he knew it was Sousuke. Colors danced behind his eyelids as he tried to recover from the flash of light, and quickly blinked his eyes open. In front of them were three cars, all midnight black and menacing. His heart sped up and he quickly regained his composure, once more putting his hand in the pocket with the gun. Makoto could see the frown on Sousuke’s face, and he couldn’t suppress his either.

 

“ _Do they know what we’re planning?_ ” he thought, beginning to panic. They could open the doors and hit them with a grenade, or shoot them, or-

 

“ _No,_ ” he interrupted himself, “ _it will be fine. He will be fine._ ”

 

The engines were cut off simultaneously, along with the headlights. If it weren’t as dark, Makoto could’ve probably seen into the car – but not tonight. They waited for the doors to open, for a gunshot, waited for anything to kill the awful silence.

 

The snow continued to fall in heavy clumps, gathering on the hoods of the cars as what seemed to be hours passed by. Then, with a sudden click, the middle car’s door opened, and Makoto could make out fiery red hair through the curtain of white.

 

He stood up straighter and made sure Haruka was still invisible behind him, as he watched a leg swing out from the car, then another, until there was a full person standing only yards away. Makoto could not see Matsuoka’s face, for it was too obscured by snow falling from the sky. There was no point in calling out. Both of them knew who the other was, and both of them knew what they were here for.

 

Matsuoka took a step forward, shoes sinking into the white beneath him. There was a series of car doors opening and shutting, and suddenly Matsuoka had two unfamiliar men walking besides him. Sousuke tensed and went to grab his gun, bot Makoto shot him a look. “ _Not yet,_ ” he mouthed and furrowed his brow. Sousuke stared at him, and Makoto could tell he was unsure, but he reluctantly dropped his hand.

 

When Matsuoka was only a few feet away, he stopped. Makoto could see him clearly now; the dull, red eyes smoldering in the dark as they watched him with a vicious intensity, the angry snarl on his lips, pulled back to show two rows of dangerously sharp teeth that gleamed.

 

“Spare me the formalities, Tachibana,” Matsuoka growled, eyes darting between Makoto and his men, “I want to go home. It’s too cold.”

 

“Long time no see,  _Rin_.” He smiled – if it could even be called a smile. It was about as cold as the temperature. Matsuoka’s eyes narrowed into slits, as if he were trying to see through him.

 

“Where is he?”

 

Makoto gave a light chuckle and stepped aside – just a bit – to reveal Haruka. Surprised by the action, he desperately clung to the back of Makoto’s coat, sending a jolt of guilt through him. It must’ve been hard for him, he thought; Makoto realized he wasn’t acting very reassuring. He hadn’t considered how fucking  _terrified_  Haruka must be, and he greatly wished to gather him up in his arms and just hug him, hug him until his arms went numb. But he knew he could save that for later.

 

As his small form came into view, Makoto could see Matsuoka spring up, as if someone had splashed him with water. The smoldering in his eyes quickly lightened up into a kind of light Makoto hadn’t seen there before; he made a hurried move to step forward, but Makoto held out a hand.

 

“Not so fast, there,” he said, tone slightly less friendly, “Where’s the deed?”

 

Rin set his jaw and stopped mid step, hesitation flickering across his features. Slowly, he moved a hand to the side, and one of the men ran to the car, rummaged around in the backseat, and came back with a large, black briefcase. Matsuoka stood there silently, glaring at Makoto as the man undid the latches and held the briefcase in his arms, as if it were on display. Without breaking his gaze, he took a pile of documents from the briefcase and held them up.

 

“Here are the documents. Now fuckin’ give him to me.”

 

He dropped the papers back into the briefcase sloppily, and it was closed with a quick motion. Makoto knew that Matsuoka had a very short fuse, and delaying this any longer would mean trouble. Before turning around, he quickly glanced at Sousuke, and gave him a nod. Sousuke nodded in return and he moved a hand to his pocket – an innocent gesture, to the naked eye.

 

“Haruka,” Makoto whispered tenderly as he put a hand on the shivering shoulder, “everything is going to be fine.”

 

-

 

With those final words, Makoto grabbed onto his shoulder and began leading him towards Rin. With each step, more and more fear rose inside of his stomach – the red of Rin’s eyes seemed to burn into his brain, but no matter how much he wanted to look away, he couldn’t. Haru wanted to scream and yell and tell Makoto to stop, but he knew better. After all,  _everything would be fine._

 

They stopped when they were an arms-length away from Rin. Haru was shaking so hard he kept biting his tongue, and the irony taste in his mouth was making him sick to his stomach. All he wanted to do was go home-

 

Home? Where was home to him? As Makoto and Matsuoka exchanged words, he was briefly caught in his own thoughts. He realized when he thought of  _home_ , he thought of Makoto’s room on the top floor of the big building in their cozy compound. Not his old home, not Rin’s home – but Makoto’s.

 

Makoto  _was_ his home.

 

“Haru,” Rin snapped, making him jump, “come on.”

 

Fear seized Haruka like a vice, and he looked up at Makoto for help. The green of his eyes glowed reassuringly as he gave a small nod in Rin’s direction. He knew it was time, but he didn’t know if he was ready. What if the timing was off? What if he messed up? Taking a shaky breath to clear his worries, he took one step forward, away from the warmth of Makoto’s hand, and into the empty space between them. At that moment, the briefcase was tossed to Makoto, who caught it skillfully, and Rin reached out a hand to grab Haru.

 

It felt like he was in a movie, where things go in slow motion right before shit hits the fan.

****

His foot didn’t even get to leave the ground before there was a loud, roaring “ **NOW!** ” from behind him, and a deafening crack of an explosive filled the night air. It shook Haru, right down to his bones, as the scene before him quickly faded away into a grey, murky darkness. Even though his ears rang painfully, he heard a scream. Haru was sure it was Rin, lost somewhere in the darkness, and then he heard another – his own. There was a sharp tug at his scarf and he gave a yelp as he was suddenly being pulled  _back_  by someone, dragging him along hurriedly through the snow.

 

“ _Stop!_ ” he cried over the gunfire and shouts of men, afraid he was being taken away from Makoto. The scarf was wound tightly around his neck, making it difficult to breathe, and he could feel himself begin to panic. Although he tried to pull at the wet fabric, his fingers wouldn’t move like he wanted them to. Haru was paralyzed – not because of the cold, but because of the pure, utter fear that had taken control over his limbs and rendered them useless. The thick cloud of smoke had robbed him of all his senses; Haru felt like a trapped animal.

 

He tried to think it over: As the briefcase was handed to Makoto, Sousuke must’ve used his smoke grenade to provide cover to escape. But now, he wasn’t quite sure if getting dragged away could qualify as ‘part of the plan’. He was pretty sure, no,  _positive,_  that there were not this many people with guns here. The thought hit him like a snowball to the face – cold and painful.  _Rin had brought reinforcements as well_.

 

“Oh, sh-!”

A sound similar to an egg breaking burst through the air, and the person dragging him along gave an blood-curdling cry. He had stopped moving in the snow, and Haruka turned his head as best he could, only to be met face-to-face with red and pink goo splattered against the white canvas on the ground. The grip on his scarf became lax, finally letting go as the unknown man fell forward with a soft  _fwump_. Bile rose in Haru’s throat, and he scrambled to his feet, trying to quell the urge to vomit. Taking a quick glance at the body near him to make sure it wasn’t anyone he knew – the man was unfamiliar to him,  _thank god_ , - he started running. He didn’t know where. He didn’t know what direction. He just ran through the jungle of smoke and gunfire and snow, the icy air stinging every part of his cold, wet body.

 

“Makoto!” he shouted over the cries of men, “ _Makoto!_ ”

 

He had to find him.  _Needed_ to find him. Hot tears began to form in Haru’s eyes, but he didn’t cry. He wouldn’t allow himself to cry. Not yet.

 

Suddenly, he felt someone grab his arm forcefully, and he spun around ready to attack, only to be met with familiar jasmine eyes.

 

“Haruka.” Makoto said urgently, pulling his arm, “We have to run! Now!”

 

And with that, he was running once more. The snowy tundra seemed to go on forever, but the smoke was gradually clearing. Haru figured that they had set off more than one smoke bomb, because there was no way a single bomb could let out so much damn gas.

 

Too busy wrapped up in trying to figure out what happened, Haru lost his footing and fell face first into the cold snow. It stung his face and he desperately tried to get up, but he heard Makoto yell over a sudden volley of ammunition.

 

“Haruka,  _stay down!_ ” His words were as fierce as the gunfire, and even though he couldn’t see Makoto, he knew better than to ignore him. Haru shielded his head with his arms as snow sprayed up on him, little holes appearing in the ground to his right.

 

Haru’s heart and mind were racing – he could feel the blood rushing through his veins and could feel the hot numbness spread along his fingers and face, but he did not get up until the gunfire had stopped. It felt like a century until the only sound that could be heard was far off. Wearily he rose, and searched for Makoto, only to see him engaged in a battle - with none other than Rin himself.

 

Makoto glanced to the side and noticed Haruka standing there, and after a quick kick to Rin’s gut, shouted in his direction.

 

“Run, Haru! Leave!”

 

Although Makoto had told him to leave, Haruka could only stare on dumbly through the thin cover of smoke and snow, and watch as the two fought each other. Red and brown blurred in almost a sort of dance – sidesteps and dips and ducks and turns one right after the other. Besides, how could he leave after what Makoto had said? He had called him  _Haru_. Not Haruka, but  _Haru_. Makoto had never called him that.

 

“ _I said run, Haru!”_  Makoto yelled again, this time with more force as he struggled to block an onslaught of punches. He couldn’t feel his feet or legs, but something made him move, and he began to run in the opposite direction. Haru knew he couldn’t look back, because if he did, he really wouldn’t be able to leave.

 

The smoke slowly dissipated as he ran further and further away, dodging piles of scrap and the bodies of men, and then finally, the night became clear again His chest burned, aching for oxygen, but rejecting it each time he swallowed the cold air. His stomach gave a nasty lurch, and his vision grew dim as he doubled over, feeling a burning hotness travel up his throat and leave his mouth, falling to the snow below him. “ _What a waste of saba,_ ” he thought briefly before another attack of sickness doubled him over again.

 

Once his stomach was settled, Haru spat, trying to get rid of the nasty taste in his mouth, and stood up to look around. The snow was still heavy and now had compiled as high as his mid-calf. He was now completely soaking wet, not to mention  _freezing_ , and on top of that, all alone. All around him stood large piles of junk, and not a person to be seen. “ _What if I freeze out here?_ ” he thought, anxiety beginning to dig its way into his chest. Walking forward a bit, he desperately tried to ignore the pounding in his head and tried to search for any source of life. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something shiny. Turning cautiously, in fear he was about to be shot, he looked around a large pile of scrap, and spotted a car, and a group of men – Makoto’s men.

 

Even though his whole body felt numb, he managed to wave an arm and give a weak yell, happening to get one of the guy’s attention. There was some shouting, and even though Haru’s vision was blurred, he could make out figures running towards him; one of them was Yamazaki.

 

He fell to his knees in relief, brain too muddled to properly stand anymore. Haru felt disconnected with his body, and he thought it a miracle that he was still conscious. Yamazaki was the first to him, and he knelt down and took him gruffly by the shoulders.

 

“Where’s Makoto, Nanase?”

 

His tone was deadly urgent as he shook Haruka, but even though he tried, he could not get the words to come out of his mouth. In fact, he couldn’t even  _feel_  his mouth. Yamazaki gritted his teeth and growled, shaking him harder.

 

“Nanase!  _Answer me!_ ”

 

“Oii, Yamazaki. Be nice.”

 

Everyone, even Haru, turned their head to find the source of the scolding voice. There, leaning against a large piece of metal protruding from the snow, was Makoto. Even though he looked quite pale and was sweating profusely, he wore that trademark smile of his. Haru instantly felt life return to his body and stiff limbs, and got up, staggering forwards.

 

“Makoto,” he mumbled, walking towards him. Relief had flooded his chest like a dam had been broken, and he almost felt like crying again. All he wanted to do was hold Makoto and never,  _ever_ let him go.

 

Haru had originally planned to hug him, but he tripped and instead caught Makoto’s coat, sending them both hurdling to the ground. He landed on his back hard, knocking what air he had in his lungs out, and Makoto fell onto his knees besides him. Even though he was still winded, he managed to push himself up to apologize. For a moment, Haru found it strange that he was even strong enough to pull Makoto down with him, but he dismissed it since he knew just who Makoto had been fighting.

 

Something caught his eye before he could speak. Makoto’s coat had become unbuttoned as a result of Haru’s yank, and against his unsullied white dress shirt was a blooming sea of red, and where it was the darkest, a tear in the cloth revealed even more of the burning color. At first, Haru was confused, but then the smell hit him – that musty, metallic smell that only meant one thing.

 

“Shit,” he hissed, and pressed a hand to his side where the blood continued to blossom and drip from the fabric and onto Makoto’s hand. Haruka looked up at him, petrified, but Makoto only gave a sad, small smile in return. Without thinking, Haru pressed both of his small hands to Makoto’s clammy one, to try and help, to  _stop_  it, but the blood continued to pour out, over his fingers, onto Makoto’s pants; everywhere.

 

Haru tried to ask for an explanation, but his lips were trembling so violently it was difficult to even swallow. Makoto must’ve known though, because he gave a painful, dark laugh.

 

“I needed to know you were safe,” he coughed, sweat beginning to drip from his nose and down onto the snow, which was quickly turning from white to ruby.

 

There were yells and a rush of movement all at once, but Haruka felt as if he were watching the situation from above. He saw himself, frozen, staring wide-eyed as Makoto continued to bleed onto the white, pure ground, staining it with an evil red color. He could see the light fade from those warm green eyes that he had grown to adore, the eyes he  _yearned_  to see whenever he opened his own. He could only watch as he was lifted up and away, into the car. He couldn’t even respond to the men who were talking and yelling at him to move, to get up; all he could do was stare on in horror, mouth hanging open like a broken nutcracker.

 

Right before his very eyes, his nightmare had come true.

 

The red was scratched into his brain.

 

The snow was red.

 

His hands were red.

 

The sky was red.

 

Everything was red.

 

Red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red, red,  _red, **red**_ -

 

And then it was black.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLIFFHANGER SORRY  
> ...i will supply glue to you if your heart is broken
> 
> anyway,  
> I want to thank these two amazing people for helping me with this chapter and being complete _fucking_ lifesavers like guys this chapter would not be out right now without them  
>  make sure to follow them on tumblr because god damn they're awesome  
> [akikolikesstuff.tumblr.com](http://akikolikesstuff.tumblr.com/)  
> [just-another-muppet.tumblr.com](http://http://just-another-muppet.tumblr.com//)  
> drop a comment or hit me up @ [otomeflakes.tumblr.com](http://otomeflakes.tumblr.com/)  
> *i track #sasfmn and #sing a song for me nightingale*  
> just want to say a quick thank you to my readers, like honestly I had no idea my fic would get even remotely popular so thank you all! I love you and sorry for the long fucking endnote (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ


	8. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Everything slowed to an impossible pace - even the machines seemed to stop - as Makoto watched the tray slip from Haru’s grasp and fall to the floor, glass shattering and scattering along the white tile._

Haru sat and stared at the grey clock on the wall, trying to ignore the flickering light above him. The second hand seemed to drag its way around the numbers, going so slowly it might as well be going backwards. It had been almost an hour since he had been dumped here and told to wait, to have faith in them - that they’d do everything to make sure their boss came out fine. Everyone refused to tell him what had happened.

 

Shortly after Makoto was put in the car, Haru had apparently blacked out. He couldn’t remember much, honestly. When he had woken up he was being carried to the room he was currently in. It didn’t take much to figure out that he was in some sort of hospital, but that was the least of his worries. What had happened while he was out? His wet, freezing clothes had been replaced with a warm hospital gown and robe. His hair had been dried. The aches in his body were now nothing but dull throbs. Did any of these things make him feel better?

No.

The hall was silent, save for the occasional grunt of pain or murmur of men. His ears still hurt a bit from the smoke grenade’s explosion, but he was glad for it – it distracted him from the vicious worry eating away at his conscious. The white curtains that separated his space from others did nothing but remind him of the events that took place hours ago, how the white had slowly turned red with his blood, and oh, _god_ , the blood-

 

“Nanase.”

 

A stern voice snapped him back into reality, just as he had begun to have a full-on panic attack. His gaze quickly turned away from the separator and looked towards the source of the voice, and briefly, he thought it would’ve been better to continue staring at the curtain.

 

Yamazaki stood in front of the bed Haru was sitting on, a bandage across his nose and a patch on his arm. They stared at each other for a moment silently, and _boy_ , if looks could kill.

 

Haru didn’t even bother with formalities. “Is Makoto… okay?”

 

Yamazaki knitted his eyebrows and crossed him arms; a clear display of displeasure. Haru picked at the hem of his gown as he tried to match the other man’s venomous glare. He was silent for a long while, lips pressed into a tight, thin line, before he spoke.

 

“No. He’s not.”

 

Haru felt his heart sink to his feet, his whole being beginning to collapse in on itself. The familiar urge to vomit arose in his throat and he leaned back on the bed, taking a large gulp of air to try and choke down the scream forming in his chest. Despite his best efforts, he began to shake, teeth clattering together so hard he thought they might break. It was his fault. All his fault. The thought stitched itself into his brain, weaving the words into it over and over. His fault. His fault. His fault. _His fault_.

 

“But he’s not dead, if that’s what you’re asking.”

 

His trembling ceased at once, and he could almost feel his heart _stop_. Wide-eyed, unable to close his slack jaw, he turned to Yamazaki. The slightest hint of a smile lingered on his lips, and his teal eyes gleamed in utter amusement.

 

“What?” Haru rumbled, turning his body towards the man, the sheets balled tightly in his fists.

 

“I said, he’s not dead. He’s just fucked up.”

 

Haru let out a hollow, barking laugh, and shot up. He was shaking now, but not from the overwhelming sadness he had felt moments ago. Yamazaki raised an eyebrow as he almost _pounced_ over to him, taking his ruffled collar into his clammy hands.

 

“You bastard,” he murmured, trying his best to intimidate Yamazaki, who now had to look down at Haru, his shit-eating grin only adding to his chagrin. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

 

“That’s what you get, Nanase,” he sneered, snatching Haru’s hands in one of his own, roughly yanking them away from his now disheveled collar and holding them above Haru’s head. He tried to pull his hands away, the pressure of Yamazaki’s grip beginning to hurt, but they wouldn’t budge. He glared up, only to find the grin had left his face and instead of amusement sparkling in his teal eyes, there was anger. Blistering, hateful anger.

 

“What do y-” his argument was cut off by Yamazaki, who quickly jerked his hands upwards, causing his mouth to snap shut in a muted gasp. Haru grimaced at the jolt of pain that was sent down his arms, but his pain was purposefully ignored.

 

“You know exactly what I mean.” He hissed, his breath prickling Haru’s skin. “You deserve to suffer just as much as Makoto is. He almost _died_ just so he could protect you, and what do you do in return for him? _Nothing_. He has poured out his heart and soul to you, and you can’t even properly reject his feelings? You have him hanging by one _fucking_ thread of hope that you’ll pull through and say you love him too, when both you and I know that is a bunch of _crap_!”

 

Haru clenched his jaw, getting ready to spit in his face for a _second_ time, but Yamazaki saw it coming and released his grip on Haru’s wrists, letting him stumble to the floor. As the harshness of his words finally settled atop his heart, Haru had begun to realize just exactly _what_ he’d been doing to Makoto all this time.

 

In the gentlest of terms, he had, quite frankly, been leading him on. Makoto would whisper to him over and over countless times how much he cared for him, how much he wanted to make him happy; Haru had done absolutely nothing in return. Granted, he was still sorting out his feelings, but he knew Yamazaki was half-right. At this point, if Haru were to tell Makoto he couldn’t return his feelings, he didn’t know what would happen to him. If he did return them though, he didn’t know what would happen either.

 

But the question was making itself evermore present in his mind, in fact it has been ever since the first confession – _Do I love him, too_?

 

Yamazaki must’ve seen the look change on Haru’s face, because he gave an irritated ‘ _hmph’_ , and turned his back to him.

 

“Get up. I’ll take you to his room.”

 

He walked out without another word. It took him a few moments to realize that he was alone, before he hurried out into the hall, still mildly dazed from the conversation. The groans of men grew louder as he wandered, peeking around corners and shuffling through people who shot him discerning glares.

 

Yamazaki had stopped in front of a door, a pair of small curtains blocking the tiny window. Haru could hear faint beeps coming from inside, but there were no voices. He reached for the doorknob, but his hand was smacked away.

 

“Listen,” Yamazaki whispered, coming closer to Haru’s face “he’s in a lot of pain. He was shot in the lower stomach area and has injuries on his head. Don’t bother him, yeah?”

 

Haru felt his throat grow tight, and he swallowed hard.

 

“Yeah, got it.” He choked, looking away from Yamazaki. In all honesty, he didn’t know if he was ready to face Makoto. He still felt like this was all his fault – no, he _knew_ this was all his fault, and if he were to see the damage he’s done to the _one person_ in this god forsaken world that has shown him kindness… did he even deserve to still be here?

 

Yamazaki narrowed his eyes, and gave Haru one last spiteful look before slowly opening the door. The beeping got louder and seemed to be in time with Haru’s own heartbeat, as he stepped into the chilly hospital room. The air was stale and smelled of rubbing alcohol, and he would’ve started to wretch if not for the sight before him.

 

There were machines – too many machines, and the beeping and whirring of them all seemed to create some sick sort of symphony that only grew louder and louder with each passing second. His eyes trailed up the grey hospital bed, over the pristine white sheets, and stopped when he saw light brown hair.

 

Haru felt like he couldn’t breathe as he walked over to the side of the bed and stared down at Makoto laying there, fast asleep underneath layers upon layers of blankets. He didn’t look like he was in pain –“ _Thank God_ ” Haru thought – but he was wearing a slight frown on his lips. He had oxygen tubes running from his nose to behind his ears, where they disappeared behind his light brown locks. The blankets near his stomach and chest moved in a slow, rhythmic pattern, and that’s when it hit Haru – _he’s actually alive._

 

“Oh,” he gasped, his knees buckling as the realization sank in. Makoto wasn’t necessary okay, but he was here, and that was enough. Haru grabbed a chair from the corner and brought it to his bedside, his eyes never once leaving Makoto’s peaceful face.

 

He didn’t know whether to talk or not – if he didn’t, he felt as if the chirping of the machines would slowly suffocate him, but if he did… He knew there was no real point in talking as Makoto was currently asleep, but he felt as though he needed to say something; maybe for himself more than Makoto.

 

“Makoto…” he mumbled, biting his lip, “I am so, sorry.”

 

“It’s all my fault that you’re in here. If I had helped you when you were being attacked, you wouldn’t be here. If you… if you had never taken me from Rin, none of this wouldn’t have happened. I put your life in danger. You said I wasn’t a burden,” his voice cracked, “but I am.”

 

Makoto’s hand laid above all the blankets and rested by his side as the IV’s pumped medicine into his body. Haru reached out timidly across the bed and grasped it in his own hand, running his thumbs along Makoto’s icy knuckles. He swallowed, trying to ease the pressure in his throat. His eyes burned and he could feel the hot sting of tears, but none fell.

 

“I am so sorry, Makoto,” He whispered, laying his head on the bed and covering his face with his other arm to shield himself, like he was ashamed. “I am so, so sorry.”

 

He sat with his head buried in his arm for a long time, just listening to the faint breathing and the steady hum of machines. He repeatedly blinked away tears as he clutched the cold, clammy hand with his own and tried to quell the guilt that ran through his veins like poison.

 

There was a sudden shift of blankets and suddenly Haru felt something warm atop his head. Perplexed, he lifted his head just a bit, blinking to unstick his wet lashes, and saw a sight that nearly knocked the breath out of him again.

 

Despite being in obvious discomfort, Makoto had lifted his head from his pillows, and was smiling at Haru like he was the happiest man in the world. His tired eyes gleamed in the dull light of the hospital room and Haru felt the hand on his head begin to softly stroke his hair.

 

“Don’t cry,” his voice came out as a raspy whisper, “I like it better when you smile.”

 

Haru put all of his effort into _not_ bursting out in tears and shot up from his chair, sending it flying backwards with a loud clatter. He dove to wrap his arms around Makoto’s shoulders, and he buried his head under his chin, listening to the steady heartbeat under his ear.

 

Makoto let out a small hiss through his teeth, and he realized that he _may_ have been holding on a bit too tight. Haru quickly loosened his grip and drew his head back from his chest to stare at his face – to take in every detail; the dark bags under his eyes, the slight crease in his brow, his tired, happy smile.

 

“Sorry,” Haru murmured, quickly bringing a hand up to scrub at his eyes, and Makoto gave a weak laugh.

 

“Stop apologizing. I heard you, you know. It’s not your fault, Haru. I don’t regret what I did.”

 

Haru pouted. “But-“

 

“No, nothing you say can convince me otherwise. I did what I wanted to do, and I’m beyond relieved that you’re alright.”

 

“You’re too nice for your own good.” Haru mumbled and leaned back, so he was kneeling by his bedside rather than suffocating him. Makoto drew himself up a bit, wincing as he rested his back against the pillows.

 

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that one.” He chuckled, bringing his hand to rest on his lower abdomen. From what Haru could see, whenever he shifted or moved he would hold that spot, and then Haru would remember the way his blood flowed down his fingers - the way his shirt had been torn just above his hip and the ragged breathing coming out of his mouth like dragon smoke. The thought had him shivering.

 

“Makoto, what… exactly happened?”

 

Makoto looked away from Haru and sighed deeply. The blankets were clenched tightly in his fists and they trembled, as if thinking about the incident caused him physical pain.

 

“Come, sit on the bed. I’ll tell you.”

 

-

 

_His breathing was painful and uneven, and he could feel the blood starting to dry, matting his hair just above his eyes. The snow had numbed his feet, making it hard to walk – let alone fight – but it did not matter to him. Makoto stood with his fists raised, and watched as Rin staggered to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth._

_“Why’d you send him away? I want him to see me kick your ass.” Rin laughed, although it came out more as a growl. Makoto clicked his tongue in annoyance and shifted, trying to remember the last time he’d fought hand to hand. Was he supposed to go for the knees? Or was it the stomach?_

_“Give up, Rin,” he huffed, moving back as Rin slowly advanced forwards._

_“Me?_ I _should give up?” he sneered, clenching his raised fists, “Makoto, you’ve unrightfully taken him from me. I think I deserve him back.”_

_“You don’t deserve shit!” Makoto spat and lunged forward, fist raised, but Rin quickly moved to the side and evaded the blow._

_“What makes you think that?” Rin said, charging at Makoto while he was still recovering from his attempted attack. Like Rin, he managed to dodge the fist, but just by centimeters – Makoto was never one who excelled at fighting._

_“He’s told me what’s happened to him, Rin.  He has told me everything that you’ve done, and what everyone else has done to him.” He wiped some blood off of his brow, smearing it along his forehead, “You make me sick.”_

_“Like you’re any better, you bastard!”_

_“Of course I’m-”_

_“Don’t give me that,” Rin sighed angrily and began to move towards Makoto again, “You’ve kidnapped him and probably taken him without consent, right? You’ve caught him in your little emotional game and now he’s confused, because you’ve made him think you’re a good person worthy of his feelings. News flash: you’re not.”_

_The words cut Makoto deep – worse than any knife could have. Maybe he_ had _pushed himself onto Haru, and maybe he_ had _confused him. Of course, it was never his intention, but… what if?_

“No,” _he thought as he watched Rin smile through bloodied lips,_ “Haru’s made himself very clear.”

 

_“You’re wrong,” he laughed, and watched the smile fade from Rin’s face, “you’re wrong, Rin. It’s actually the other way around – I’m caught up in him.”_

_“Maybe you’re caught up in him too, but you’re not like me. I’m not keeping Haru for fun. To you, Haru is just an object that you’ve grown attached to – like a safety blanket. And that’s where we differ.”_

_“I love him, Rin. I really love him.”_

_Rin’s eyes flashed with fury, and he charged at Makoto, running at full speed towards him. He barely had time to brace himself before Rin had knocked him back into the snow, the cold completely enveloping them both in its icy grasp._

_They struggled with each other, both equally matched; Makoto managed to flip Rin, only to be pinned back when he had let his guard down. Fists flew and blood ran red, until finally Makoto had Rin shoved into the snow, pushing his shoulders down with tremendous force._

_Makoto was panting heavily, but he could still manage to speak._

_“Give up, Rin. We both know who’s lost.”_

_Rin spit, the red saliva staining the snow next to him. He glared at Makoto, eyes flickering back and forth between Makoto and to the side. Curious, Makoto glanced in the direction Rin was looking towards, and that was when he realized: he had fucked up._

_His shirt collar was yanked down roughly by a cold hand and he could feel hot, heavy breath on his ear. Despite how hard he tried to turn his head, Rin’s grip on him was iron tight and was twisting the cloth so it became uncomfortably tight around his neck._

_“Yeah,” Rin growled, and Makoto felt something cold – even colder than the snow – pressed_ hard _against his lower abdomen._

_“You.”_

_Makoto only had time to take in a sharp breath before there was a muffled_ bang _, and then a searing pain had collapsed itself onto him all at once. He let out a strangled cry as Rin pushed him off and struggled to his feet, panting as he did so. His vision was becoming increasingly blurrier, but he could make out the small gun in Rin’s hand._

 

_“Coward” Makoto gasped, trying to push himself up, “You used a silencer so my men wouldn’t know to come wreck you, right?”_

_Rin gave a short sigh and quickly pocketed the gun, wiping his bloodied hands on his jacket._

_“If you somehow survive this,” Rin muttered as he turned away, “I want to warn you now. I will come back and I will finish you off.”_

_And with that, Makoto was left alone. The snow continued to fall and his lower half was becoming alarmingly numb; as best he could, he sat up, and with weary eyes, glanced down to assess the damage. It was as he had thought: bullet wound right in his side. The sight caused a queasy feeling in his throat, and he felt the beginnings of cold sweat forming down his back and neck._

_He would’ve been content laying there, if not for the fact he didn’t know where Haru was, and/or if he was safe. He took a few deep breaths and tried to ignore that he was bleeding out, before shakily getting to his feet. To hide his bloodstained shirt, he sloppily buttoned a few buttons on his trench coat, and began walking._

_He knew it was a long shot – finding someone before he passed out, that is. The world seemed to spin around him and he could barely tell which way he was walking, but he knew he had to keep moving onwards._

_When his legs began to give out, he leaned against a large pile of scrap metal, and tried not to collapse then and there._

_Through gritted teeth, he whispered to himself, “For my men,”_

_“For Haruka.”_

_He pushed himself along the wall of frozen metal, ignoring the burning pain that was beginning to replace the numbness. It felt like flames were licking at him, beckoning him to succumb to the blistering heat that seemed to scald his side._

_Just when he thought it was all over, he heard a familiar voice._

_“Nanase! Answer me!”_

_Low and behold, right around the pile of junk was Sousuke, along with Haru and a handful of his men. His lips trembled slightly into a relieved smile and he brought up a shaky hand to try and rid himself of the sweat gathered on his brow._

_“Oi, Yamazaki. Be nice.”_

_It took every ounce of strength he had, but seeing the looks of relief on his men’s faces was worth it. Sousuke’s tense features immediately relaxed, and Haru… his face, pale as it was, lit up._

_“Makoto,” he mumbled, getting up and staggering over. Makoto could’ve spent years listening to how sweetly he said his name, but was quickly reminded that he may not have those many years left, as Haru tugged on his jacket and his legs finally gave way._

_Once he collapsed, it was a blur to him. He could still remember the feeling of Haru’s hands on his own. In fact, that was the last thing he remembered before everything went fuzzy._

_When he woke up, he felt as if he were dreaming. Everyone’s faces were still hazy and he could barely make out the orange-haired doctor, explaining as best he could that ‘you are lucky to be alive’ and ‘extensive damage to both your head and stomach area’. By that point, he didn’t care much, and he once again fell asleep._

 

**

 

“…And that’s all I can really remember,” Makoto whispered, carding his fingers through Haru’s hair. He was laying down, with his head in Makoto’s lap, a safe distance from his wound. Reliving what had happened sent flurries of both anger and fear through Makoto, and the only thing that was distracting him was Haru. He looked up at him with sad eyes, the blue shining brightly with and endless sea of emotion. Makoto couldn't help but chuckle as he ruffled Haru’s hair and threw his own head back onto the pillow.

 

“I’m still sorry, even if you say it’s not my fault.” Haru murmured, shifting to bury his face in the blankets.

 

“Haru,” Makoto exasperated, gently pulling a strand of his dark hair. He knew _why_ Haru was feeling guilty, and he could understand his reasoning, but really, in the end, this all came back onto him. _He_ had taken Haru. _He_ had made the plan to keep him. _He_ fucked up and got himself hurt. Makoto found it funny that Haru felt guilty, because really, Haru should be wanting to high-tail it out of this smelly hospital room, away from him and all of his nonsense. Yet he stays and is even foolish enough to feel bad about what’s happened.

 

Makoto slid his hand down Haru’s head to cup his cheek, and lightly turned it away from the blankets so he could look at his face. Haru pouted, eyes cast downwards, and Makoto couldn’t hold back a laugh, even though it hurt his side.

 

“Hey,” he teased, pinching the tip of Haru’s nose and making him gasp in surprise, “what did I say earlier? I like it better when you smile.”

 

He rolled his eyes, but in an instant his pout was gone, replaced with a small smirk. Makoto traced along Haru’s jawbone with his thumb, a light, airy feeling filling his chest. He sat up and moved closer to Makoto, grabbing onto his hand with his own, and got closer, and closer, until Makoto felt as if he were drowning in those deep seas of blue-

 

Makoto could just begin to feel Haru’s breath in his mouth when there was a loud _bang_ against the door. It spooked Makoto so bad that he yelped – yes, _yelped_ – and Haru had to bury his face in the sheets to mute his laughter. He had a very, very good idea as to whom was at the door. Annoyed and embarrassed, Makoto sighed, putting his head in his hands.

 

“Come in.”

 

Haru sat up on the bed and was wiping tears from his eyes, as the door slowly creaked open to reveal a dazed looking Nagisa and an incredibly embarrassed Ryugazaki.

 

“Please excuse him,” Ryugazaki mumbled quickly, pushing Nagisa into the room, “he… he ran into the door. Again.”

 

“It’s alright,” Makoto chuckled, watching as Nagisa slowly gained his senses back, “are you okay, Nagisa?”

 

His pink eyes came back into focus, and slowly turned his head to stare at Makoto, a blank expression on his face.

 

“…Am I okay?” he whispered, lowering his head, “Am… I? Okay…?” His fists were clenched at his side, and it looked like he was trembling. Maybe he had hit the door a little too hard this time.

 

Makoto looked to Ryugazaki, more than a bit confused, but he could only return his questioning gaze. He looked to Haru for help, but he was still giggling.

 

“Nagi-“

 

“MAKO-CHAN! STOP ASKING DUMB QUESTIONS!” Nagisa wailed, rushing forward and leaning over the side of the bed to envelope his head in a rough hug. A pulsating pain shot through his head as Nagisa rocked him back in forth, but he didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.

 

“Yamazaki-kun called me and told me what happened…” He mumbled, cradling Makoto’s head tighter.

 

“Nagisa… I’m sorry if my actions have caused you to lose your me- _ow!_ ”

 

Makoto tried to apologize, but was cut off with another strong squeeze.

 

“Mako-chan, _please_. I heard you almost _died_ – you were shot and you’re not even worried about it!”

 

Makoto bit his lip, and continued to let Nagisa hug him. He really did feel awful; Sousuke hadn’t been able to report casualties just yet, but there was no way everyone left from that scrapyard unscathed. Although he had managed to get his point across to Rin and had successfully taken his Iwatobi property, his words still lingered in his mind.

 

_“If you somehow survive this, I want to warn you now. I will come back, and I will finish you off.”_

Makoto couldn’t put his men through another useless battle. Next time, if Rin kept his promise, it would be the two of them, alone. It was his battle.

 

“…Right. Sorry Nagisa.” He laughed, and Nagisa slowly let him go, dabbing his eyes on his sleeve.

 

“Don’t worry me like that. I don’t want to lose you again.” He muttered, as Ryugazaki quickly pulled out a tissue from his pocket and handed it to the blond.

 

A deep pain in his chest was added to the mix of various throbs that riddled his body. _“I don’t want to lose you again.”_ He turned his head, unable to look at anything else but the grey wall. It was so damn _unfair_ – how could Makoto accept that he would have an early death after hearing things that encouraged him to live? He already had mixed feelings about leaving his group behind since Haru had come into the picture. Can he not just die in peace? Was it too much to ask?

 

Makoto didn’t realize that he had zoned out, and when he came back, Nagisa’s laughter had filled the room, giving it a bubbly atmosphere, and small groans of protest from Haru could be made out. He gave a quiet sigh and turned his head away from the wall, to watch the scene before him.

 

Nagisa and Ryugazaki ended up staying a long time – mostly because Nagisa found extreme enjoyment in teasing Haru. With their company, Makoto did actually start to feel a bit better. It hurt to laugh, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.

 

Nagisa was in the middle of a particularly embarrassing story about Ryugazaki, – who had retreated to the corner of the room in shame – when there was a soft knock on the door.

The door opened, revealing a spent looking Sousuke. Makoto sat up straighter, and so did Haru, who had been laying on his stomach beside him. Nagisa gave a cheery wave that Sousuke reluctantly returned, and after a quick, uninterested glance at the man in the corner, he cleared his throat.

 

“A nurse is coming in shortly to give Tachibana-sama some medication, so I’m going to need everyone to clear out.”

 

Nagisa whined and protested, but eventually caved, and gave Makoto one last painful hug before exiting the room with Ryugazaki. Haru remained on the bed, which seemed to piss Sousuke off.

 

“You too, Nanase.”

 

Haru gazed up uninterestedly at Sousuke, like he hadn’t really heard him. Makoto could sense some tension between the two, so he decided to intervene before thing got messy.

 

“Just for a second, Haru. Go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat, yeah?” Makoto asked, rubbing Haru’s lean back under the sheer cloth of his hospital gown. He gave a sigh and slowly got up from the bed, making sure to take his time as he strolled out of the room. Once he had disappeared from sight, Sousuke shut the door and stood in front of it.

 

“Alright, Yamazaki, is there really a nurse coming?” Makoto sighed, picking at the IV’s attached to his hand. They itched and he was really starting to think about how much it’d hurt to rip them out.

 

“How could you tell I was lying?”

 

“Because I’m not stupid.”

 

Sousuke gave a short chuckle and walked over to Makoto’s bedside, wincing as he did so. Seeing Sousuke injured was very rare; ever since the mishap with his shoulder, he was very careful going into dangerous situations. If he was hurt, it meant that whatever he was doing, he took very seriously.

 

“…How many, Yamazaki? What are the casualties?”

 

Makoto continued to pick at his IV, watching as the clear fluid flowed through the tubes. He could feel Sousuke looking at him, trying to pick apart his words and decipher the emotions in his voice.

 

“Not even one-fourth. Everyone lost has been recovered and the wounded are here with you. I’ve already discussed lodging and payment with the administrators of the hospital, so don’t worry about that.” He said, crouching down so he could look at Makoto, “Hazuki-san’s casualties were even less. I’m pretty sure only five of them didn’t survive.”

 

Although it was relieving to hear the news, Makoto couldn’t shake the guilt that still seemed to cling to his bones like glue.

 

“Good work, Yamazaki. You should rest, you know. You’ve earned it.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. There’s something I have to ask you first.”

 

Makoto raised his brow, then shrugged. “Go ahead.”

 

Even though he was given the ‘okay’, he squinted at Makoto incredulously, as if he wasn’t sure of his answer. In all honesty, Makoto was too tired to fight back, so all he did was watch as Sousuke stood up and walked over to the foot of the bed, where he leaned against its railing.

 

“Are you going to go after Matsuoka?”

 

 

Makoto didn’t give an answer. He couldn’t, really - not because he didn’t want to tell Sousuke, but because he hadn’t really thought about it. Rin would surely be coming after him, so should he jump the gun and catch him before he’s the one who’s caught?

 

He shrugged his shoulders, earning an irritated huff from the end of the bed.

 

“Boss, look-“

 

“No. If I say yes, you’re going to want to come with me, and-“

 

“That’s _not_ it!”

 

Makoto was stopped by Sousuke’s loud yell. They both stared at each other, equally startled, until Sousuke turned away and went for the door.

 

“What I’m saying is, I think it’s a bad idea to go after him. It’s better to leave him be.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Makoto challenged, raising his voice, “and since when have you cared so much about the enemy?”

 

Sousuke’s hand stopped just above the doorknob, lingering in mid-air, like he was afraid to stay, but afraid to go. Makoto felt his stomach flip at the lack of response, and almost got up to knock some sense into his friend, but then Sousuke gave an answer; an almost inaudible one, at that.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Makoto blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. What did he mean ‘I don’t know’? Was he joking? Was he serious? The machine next to Makoto began beeping at a faster pace as he sat there, speechless.

 

“You have one last visitor. I’ll send him in.”

 

And then he was gone, as quick as a flash of lighting. The machines around him had not slowed, rather, it had increased, and Makoto felt the urge to vomit begin to creep up his throat. He looked around for a call button and grabbed it – the wound on his side began to hurt tremendously and it was hard to swallow; maybe the medicine was wearing off or maybe, he was just having a nasty reaction to the vague words that still floated around in the room.

 

He put a hand to his forehead, and tried to calm his breathing, which was quickly proving to be useless. Makoto’s fingers were on the call button, when there was another knock on the door.

 

“Come in,” he called weakly, slowly putting the buzzer under the covers.

 

The door opened with a soft click, and in strided a tall, lanky man in an inky black suit, highlighted by a soft pink boutineer. Makoto’s eyes wandered from his suit up to his face, where he was met with dark purple, foxlike eyes, and bright, _bright_ pink hair that bounced with vitality and vigor-

 

“Shigino-sama?” Makoto cried, scrambling to get up and bow, only to be reminded by a sharp pain that he indeed, had been shot, “What are you doing here?”

 

“Makoto, what have I told you about honorifics? Jeez,” he chimed, closing the door behind him and sauntering over to his side, plopping down on the foot of the bed. “You belong to my branch, and you’re my close personal friend, so of course when I heard you were injured, I couldn’t not come check on you.”

 

“Kisumi,” Makoto swallowed, somewhat nervous he was going to be scolded, “you have your own group to be running. What about your businesses?”

 

“Eh, they can wait.” He shrugged, adjusting his tie and grinning. “More importantly, are you alright? I heard you got shot right in the gut.”

 

He rested his hand right above his wound, and even through the blankets, Makoto could feel the warmth emanating from his palm.

 

“Well, yeah, but-“

 

“Well, but nothing, Makoto!” Kisumi laughed, flicking Makoto’s sweaty forehead, “Be more careful, yeah? You’re the only subordinate I have that I actually like.”

 

“Hey, that’s not true! You like Nit-”

 

Without warning, the door swung wide open, and revealed Haru, who was standing there with a large tray of food filled with various beverages and dishes and _wow_ , was Makoto hungry.

 

“Makoto, I brought yo-“

 

Everything slowed to an impossible pace - even the machines seemed to stop - as Makoto watched the tray slip from Haru’s grasp and fall to the floor, glass shattering and scattering along the white tile.

 

Haru’s eyes were wide, staring on in utter horror as he began to shake, his face paling to the point where he was almost transparent. Makoto quickly looked behind him, but there was nothing: no bugs, no spiders, just wall. He whipped back around to look at Kisumi, who wore a similar expression to Haru’s. Gears turned and groaned in Makoto’s brain as he tried to figure out just exactly _what the fuck_ was going on – and then it hit him.

 

He should’ve known. Owning a brothel? Sure, it could’ve been coincidence, but the bubble gum pink hair? It was a dead giveaway. He was an _idiot_ for not realizing it, and now it was too late.

 

“Haruka,” Kisumi breathed dazedly, slowly rising from the bed, as if in a trace, “it’s nice to see you again.”

 

Makoto’s eyes flickered back and forth between Haru and Kisumi, waiting for what he thought would be the end of the world.

 

Haru’s quivering jaw dropped, and Makoto thought he was going to scream, but instead he fell to his knees and began to heave, his whole body shaking in effort to keep himself up. Kisumi stood there watching, his rich, lively eyes completely blank.

 

“Well, shit.” Makoto whispered, and slammed his hand down on the call button.

 

“Yeah,” Kisumi mumbled back, as an alarm began to sound, and nurses began rushing by the door and into the room.

 

“Shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> KISSME IS HERE **BITCHES**
> 
> Beta credits to [this girl](http://akikolikesstuff.tumblr.com/), she's amazing and helps me tremendously - check out her tumblr (◕‿-)  
> we are nearing the end, folks!! thank you for sticking with this story and supporting it, i am very thankful ^^  
> say hi @ [my tumblr](http://otomeflakes.tumblr.com/) and talk with me about how anime is ruining your life  
> ♥♥


	9. Downfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you can tell by the title what this chapter is about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _aka oh shit_

The cafeteria line was slow, the injured taking their time to pick the right apple or fill their coffee cup to the brim. Haru stood behind a man on crutches and leaned on the metal counter, ignoring the buzz of people around him while he waited to get food.

 

He still couldn’t shake the sense of relief that clung to his body like glue, and maybe that was a good thing. Being able to see Makoto awake and well was enough to make him forget previous events and put him in a good mood. Haru grabbed a tray from the pile, and began down the line, scoping out things he knew Makoto would like.

 

The hospital staff gave him disapproving glares as he walked through the halls with the tray, but said nothing of it – as far as they knew, Haru was yakuza and yakuza meant _leave them alone_. It was hard to balance everything on the tray, and Haru, weak as it is, had some trouble getting the tray up the stairs. He lost an apple along the way, but Makoto didn’t have to know that.

 

As he walked down the hall towards Makoto’s room, he looked into the rooms of other’s, who were presumably members of either his or that Nagisa’s group. On his left was a man hooked up to more machines than Makoto, and on his right he could smell the blood, fresh and metallic against his nose. Haru decided looking straight was his best option.

 

When he reached the door he could hear Makoto’s muffled voice mixed alongside another, but he figured it was just a doctor. Sousuke had told them visiting hours were almost over, anyway, so there was really no chance in it being someone other than hospital staff. Although, for some reason, the air felt unusually chilly; he thought it was just the hospital air.

 

Boy, was he wrong.

 

The second his hand hit the doorknob chills streaked through his body like volts of electricity shooting up his arm and spreading goosebumps over his body like wildfire, yet he twisted it and pushed the door open anyway, even though every nerve was screaming at him to _stop, stop stop_ -

 

“Makoto, I’ brought you-“

 

The pink hair was the first thing he saw.

 

Haru froze, every muscle turning into ice, hardening and immobilizing him and forcing him to stare into the foxlike purple eyes. The eyes he had been forced to stare into countless times, cold and unyielding to his cries and pleas. He could hear his heart beating in his ears, and he could feel the tray slip from his grasp, but he couldn’t move to get it. Haru was cornered. He was trapped.

 

“Haruka,” he smiled, teeth gleaming, “it’s nice to see you again.”

 

The ice that was holding him together broke in that instant, shattering just like the glass had, and he fell to his knees, vision fuzzy and heart beating so hard it _hurt_. Each beat was like a punch to the chest, threatening to crack his ribs - to crack him. Dark rooms and the burn of rope came barreling back into his mind like forgotten reminders he had tried so hard to get rid of.

 

He was back. He was back. Kisumi had come back for _him_.

 

An alarm began to sound far off in the distance and he could tell he was beginning to retch, but that was the least of his worries. Haru saw the shiny black shoes step forward and he could feel arms wrap around his waist and arms, and he screamed and trashed and wailed, he could not be touched by him, would not be touched by him, not again, never again-

 

“Nanase-san, please calm down!” An unfamiliar female voice frantically called to him, but he did not acknowledge it. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to escape the strong arms that held him back. If he saw the cold mauve of his eyes, Haru would probably faint.

 

“Nanase-san, if you don’t calm down, we’re going to have to- _hng_!” a male voice called out this time, but Haru threw up an arm in his attempt to escape and ended up punching them in the jaw. He wasn’t in his right mind anymore. All he could concentrate on was _fight or flight_.

 

“ _Let me go!”_ He shouted, cracking his eyes open just a bit, only to see Kisumi sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him with an awed expression.  Haru faltered a moment, feeling his gaze scape over his body like the dull edge of a knife, “Let me go…”

 

There was a sudden sting of a needle in his arm and he yelped, jerking away. Someone was restraining him, his hands and arms bound tightly behind his back. It was no use closing his eyes now, so he desperately looked for someone, anyone to help.

 

And then he saw Makoto, and he realized something: the question that he should’ve thought the moment he first stepped in.

 

Why was Kisumi in Makoto’s hospital room?

 

Dread crushed his chest like a weight and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t _think_ – had Makoto tracked Kisumi down to give him back? Had Makoto known Kisumi all along? Even after all he had said about his past?

 

Anger. Hurt. Betrayal. Fear. All of these combined into one sick, venomous ball inside of Haru and nestled under his heart, infecting his whole body with a disgusting, poisonous sensation. He could feel tears well in his eyes - out of anger or sadness, he did not know - and as he started to black out, he caught the look of pure despair on Makoto’s face. It remained, etched into his mind, even as he lost consciousness.

 

-

 

Two hours had passed since the incident, and they still wouldn’t let Makoto leave his hospital bed. No matter how much he threatened the staff, they kept playing it off with “Tachibana-sama, you need rest,” or “Tachibana-sama, Nanase-san is alright!”

 

Makoto knew for a fact that he was _not_ alright. He idly picked at the oatmeal in front of him with his spoon as he replayed the scene over and over again in his head - the look on Haru’s face was one that cut him right to the core, how his jaw clenched and how his eyes seemed to say, _“Why would you do this to me_?” He knew that all the trust they had built up crumbled like a sand castle in that one, small moment. Because of his one, small mistake.

 

Makoto dropped the spoon with a _clank_ and put his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes as if to rid the image from his brain. He had developed an unimaginable headache and the bright lights of his hospital were not helping him at all, but closing his eyes for too long was too painful. What if Haru hated him for this? If he were in Haru’s situation…

 

There was a small knock on the door and Makoto dragged his hands from his eyes, letting them rest on his cheeks, and looked tiredly towards the entrance.

 

“Come in,” he sighed, moving the oatmeal to the side table and brushing off the blankets. The door opened softly and – well, speak of the devil.

 

“Haru?”

 

Haru stood half in the room, half out. He would not look at Makoto, rather his gaze was focused solely on the tile where he had previously dropped the tray. Makoto wanted nothing more than to get up and hug him, stroke his navy hair and wrap him in his arms, and _apologize_.

 

“I… I want to talk.”

 

“Ah, sure.” Makoto tried to keep his voice calm, but the nervous edge was too prominent. He patted the space next to him with his hand, but Haru continued standing there, staring at the floor. Makoto felt a sharp pain run through his chest and withdrew his hand from the sheets, putting it back in his lap. It was obvious clear-cut rejection, and Makoto scolded himself for thinking that Haru would waltz in here like everything was alright. Of course he wouldn’t want to sit next to him.

 

“You… know Kisumi?” He mumbled, shifting on his feet. There were bags under his eyes, and his hair was mussed, sticking up in all the wrong places – Makoto had to look away before another image was added to his bank of ‘things I will see in my nightmares’.

 

“Yes,” he could hear a sharp intake of breath from Haru, “but let me explain.”

 

Silence filled the stuffy room as Makoto nervously picked at his bed sheets, glancing at Haru to see if he’d respond. His skin was pale, gray even, and he was picking at his lip. Makoto had never seen him like this, and that was how he knew he had done something awful to Haru.

 

“Fine.”

 

The one worded answer wasn’t necessarily endearing, but it was a start. Makoto sighed and pushed himself up a little farther, so he was properly seated.

 

“Kisumi wasn’t here when I joined the Bell Orcas. He became my higher up maybe one-and-a-half years in and runs a sub-division of the big group we’re all under. It’s… it’s like a tree. He just happened to be the branch above me. I guess he kind of helped me get to where I am now. But really Haru, I had no idea that _he_ was the one who…” he waved his hand in a circle, trying to indicate Haru’s situation, “started this.”

 

Makoto swallowed, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling the words left in his throat. Haru continued to stare at the ground, arms crossed and lips shut tight. Makoto sighed and combed his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out a way to convince Haru that he was sorry.

 

Would Haru even listen if he offered an apology? Makoto knew firsthand how hard it was to trust people, and that getting stabbed in the back wasn’t a pleasant feeling. There were still scars on his back from the numerous amount of knives that had been driven into him, some literal, some not. He knew that Haru has most certainly felt this way before, and if Makoto could, he’d kick himself for fucking him over like this.

 

“Haru, I don’t think an apology will cut it,” Makoto whispered, closing his eyes and leaning his head back onto the stiff pillow, “but I am so sorry. You put so much trust and faith into me, and I let you down like this, and if I had known I would’ve told-“

 

“Stop.” Haru snapped, clenching his shirt in his hands. Makoto shut his mouth with a snap and opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling, listening to Haru’s choked breathing. “I don’t… I don’t want to hear this right now.”

 

Makoto felt his heart drop and he lifted his head to look at him. His eyes shone wetly and Makoto could only just make out the way his body trembled slightly.

 

“Isn’t there anything I can do?” He whispered desperately, leaning forward.

 

A pause. Long, lingering in the air.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Haru went silent after that, letting the words settle in both of their minds. He walked to the side of Makoto’s bed timidly, and sat with his back to him, drawing his knees up into his chest. Makoto reached out a hand to try and brush his hair back, but thought better, and reluctantly set it down.

 

“Haru-“ His words died in his throat when the door opened, unannounced this time, and in stepped Kisumi, his eyes gleaming. Makoto cursed silently at himself for not telling him to leave. Of course he would come back - on purpose, Makoto suspected. Haru seized and shot back towards Makoto like a scared kitten, clinging onto his hospital gown.

 

“Awh, Haru-kun, there’s no reason to be scared of me anymore.” Kisumi sang and shut the door behind him, leaning back on it. If Haru had a tail, it would be up and bristled – his whole body had seemed to have frozen and Makoto was tempted to put an arm around him. The way Kisumi leaned on the door was a clear indicator that no one was leaving anytime soon.

 

“Kisumi, please.” Makoto said, rolling his eyes. The temperature had plummeted noticeably and Makoto shivered as Kisumi’s eyes flickered back and forth between them.

 

“I’ll leave soon, Makoto. I just want to talk.”

 

Makoto bit his lip and looked at Haru out of the corner of his eye. He was looking straight ahead, watching every single one of Kisumi’s movements, his hand still clutching tightly to the front of Makoto’s shirt.

 

“… Alright.”

 

Kisumi sighed through his nose and crossed his legs, saying with his body language _“We have a lot to discuss_.”

 

“How did you… _acquire_ , Haruka?”

 

Haru looked at Makoto for a brief second before moving back to Kisumi, and gave his chest a little push. Makoto knew what he meant. _Don’t tell him_.

 

“I didn’t acquire him. I rescued him.”

 

“From whom?”

 

Another push.

 

“That is none of your concern, Shigino-sama.”

 

Kisumi gave a small _tch_ and shrugged his shoulders, but his eyes flashed with a dangerous light.

“I was just wondering. I presume you know _our_ background?”

 

Makoto felt a small spark of anger go off deep in his chest, and he bit his tongue in order not to go off on him. “Yes, and that being said, I’m going to ask that you stay away from him.”

 

Kisumi’s eyes widened in surprise, and he barked a laugh.

 

“You’re telling me to stay away from your boytoy, Makoto-kun? How adorable. Whether you like it or not, I could take him back like _that_.” He snapped his fingers, the vicious sound echoing off the gray walls.

 

Haru swallowed loudly and backed up into Makoto further. His hand was shivering and cold against his chest, so Makoto put his large hand over it and squeezed tightly. Haru did not resist.

 

“He does not belong to you, Kisumi. He doesn’t belong to anyone.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll stay away.” he smirked, flipping his hair away from his eyes, “Although… I had forgotten how cute he was. I kind of want him back, yeah?”

 

Makoto did not bite his tongue this time.

 

“Kisumi,” He growled, narrowing his eyes as the spark in his chest ignited into a flame, “I don’t give a shit if you’re my superior. You try anything and I’ll kick your _fucking_ ass.”

 

Kisumi whistled and threw up his hands as if he was surrendering. “I’m just joking, Makoto-kun. Keep him. He wasn’t very profitable anyway.”

 

“You know _damn_ _well_ why I wasn’t ‘profitable’, you bastard.” Haru snarled quietly, his eyes dropping to the ground. Kisumi’s expression was blank as he gave a short chuckle and winked at him, before getting off the door and turning to open it.

 

“See you two around.”

 

He departed with that, leaving the door slightly ajar. Haru slowly let go of Makoto, but did not get up off the bed.

 

“Can I s-… Can I stay in here for a bit?” He whispered, putting his head in his hands. Makoto rested a hand on the center of his back, letting the warmth of his palm seep through his back. Although Haru jumped a bit, he did not move away, and Makoto considered it a small victory.

 

“Of course.”

 

**

 

Two weeks had passed since then, and most – if not all – of Makoto’s men were out of the hospital, including Makoto himself. It hurt to walk a little, but he managed. The compound was starting to get into the routine of things again, men were starting to heal, and everything was becoming normal again. Makoto made an effort to visit those who were not able to walk around yet, and he also made an effort to visit Nagisa and his men, offering apology after apology which was brushed off each time.

 

The only thing that wasn’t getting back to normal was with Haru and Sousuke. In the entirety of the two weeks, things had gone from bad to worse. Haru was timid – he stuck to staying in Makoto’s flat, but when they’d go to bed he would curl up against the wall and remain silent. Makoto soon started sleeping on the floor again.

 

Sousuke couldn’t even look at Makoto properly, and every time Makoto would try to confront the man, he would excuse himself and run off. He knew he had fucked up, had let something slip, and Makoto was growing wearier and wearier. The last thing they needed was a mole amongst them. The last thing _he_ needed was for said mole to be Sousuke.

 

The one other thing out of the ordinary was the phone calls the group kept getting. Makoto had reports of random members phone’s ringing, and when they’d pick it up, there would be only breathing, or sometimes, there would be nothing at all.

 

Makoto himself didn’t receive a phone call until it had died down a bit. He was out in Iwatobi, checking on scout groups, when his phone rang. He didn’t bother looking at the number before he unlocked his phone and answered.

 

“This is Tachibana.” He said, putting his blinker on as he watched two children run across the street in front of him, chasing a small cat.

 

There was a moment of silence before an eerie tune began to play. It was quiet at first, but picked up speed and volume as Makoto continued to let it play. If he was correct – he was sure he _was_ – it was the theme to a movie he had not seen in quite a while.

 

 

After that incident he gave his phone to the people who handled electronics in their group to try and track the number, but even the smartest of the lot couldn’t put a finger on who the caller was. Makoto had a pretty good idea anyway.

 

So, although everything seemed calm, Makoto was overwhelmed with problems: Haru, Sousuke, his stomach, and the ‘anonymous’ caller. Not to mention Rin’s threat that hung over his head like a dark cloud, threatening to burst into a thundering storm.

 

Makoto had a feeling that many of the barriers he had managed to knock down were being put up again, bit by bit. Albeit Haru hadn’t completely shut him out, it was definitely different. The flat was quieter now; they barely talked, partly because Makoto was busier than before, but still, it wasn’t how it had been between them.

 

Makoto often questioned himself when he was lying on the futon, listening to the small breaths coming from above him on the bed. Was Haru’s issue with him _not_ saying anything, or with his inability to keep him _safe_?

 

He knew that he was the first person to show Haru what ‘love’ was, even if it was unreciprocated. Haru had opened up to him, had shown every crack and crevice of his heart, and Makoto had done the same. Now it felt as if they were back at square one, hearts locked up tight.

 

Makoto was starting to find cigarette butts on the edges of the windows, as if someone were leaning out to smoke them. It wasn’t him – he hadn’t smoked in a while, and when he did, it was cigars – but he couldn’t get close enough to Haru to be sure. Makoto was pretty sure he knew, anyway. As long as Haru stuck to cigarettes, that was all that mattered.

 

Sousuke had been getting more and more elusive, so finally fed up, Makoto trailed him into a meeting room, where he was organizing files.

 

“Yamazaki.” He said, closing the door behind him and watching as Sousuke jumped from the chair he was sitting in, sending some of the papers flying to the floor.

 

“Boss!” He sputtered, avoiding eye contact by bending down to pick up the scattered files slowly. Makoto sighed and walked over to him, stepping on a piece of paper he had just grabbed.

 

“This game is over. I want to know what the deal is.”

****

Sousuke’s fists clenched and he yanked the paper out from under Makoto’s foot, ripping the top off. He did not say anything as he straightened up, and neatly began organizing the files.

 

“I told you,” he deadpanned, thumbing through the papers, “I don’t know what my deal is.”

 

Makoto threw his fist down onto the table, a familiar spark of anger beginning to bubble up in his stomach. “ _Cut the crap_!”

 

Sousuke set his jaw and set down the papers with much more force than needed. He sighed, long and slow, as he looked up to the celling.

 

“I really don’t know what’s going on with me.” He murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

 

“Just… talk to me, Sousuke.” Makoto said, pulling out a chair and plopping down in it. Not only was Sousuke acting suspicious, but he could see that Sousuke looked very… hurt? There were creases in his forehead that weren’t there before, and his eyes had seemed to have lost their energetic glow.

 

“I don’t know what to say to you, boss. I’m…” He clicked his tongue as if he were agitated at himself, “Fuck, I don’t know, stuck, maybe? Ah, damn…”

 

Makoto narrowed his eyes and observed him closely. He was fidgeting more than usual – he kept running his fingers through his hair or picking at the manila folders spread along the table.

 

“Stuck.” He repeated monotonously, raising his eyebrows. Sousuke pursed his lips and gave a small shrug.

 

“Matsuoka… I don’t know, there’s just, something about hi-“

 

“Are you trying to say that you have _feelings_ for the leader of an enemy group?”

 

Makoto’s harsh words cut him off and he froze, the papers he had been shuffling coming to a stop in his hands.

 

“ _Jackpot._ ” Makoto thought as he watched Sousuke looked down at the floor,jaw clenched tight, holding back the words that wanted to spill from his mouth as he gathered his thoughts to give Makoto a proper response. Makoto didn’t know what to feel, honestly. How were you supposed to react when you find out your right hand man is pining after your _enemy_?

 

“Answer me, Sousuke.”

 

“No, no of course not, _Jesus_ , why-?”

 

“Sousuke,” Makoto drawled, silencing him once again to get his attention. They stared at each other for a moment before Makoto leaned forward and grabbed Sousuke by his tie, yanking him forward. He hissed, his hot breath fanning over Makoto’s nose, and his eyes showed not confusion, but fear. They both knew what was coming.

 

“You know if you’re not loyal, I can’t keep you around anymore.”

 

The iciness of his voice even surprised him, and he watched Sousuke swallow slowly and nod, trying to keep the look on his face blank.

 

“I know.” He said, voice strained. Makoto stared a moment longer, gave a low _hmph,_ and slowly let his hand slide off of his tie. Sousuke sat scowling at the documents, face dark. Before he had the chance to say anything further, Makoto straightened his own tie, turned, and left the room.

 

There was an awful ringing in his ears as he walked through the halls, ignoring the bows and waves of his men. The look on his face had been _terrifying_ to Makoto. For the first time, Sousuke had looked unsure of himself. Not the usual blank stoic stare, but a wide-eyed, questioning gaze.

 

What if he was already plotting with Rin? What if he had been a spy _all along_?

 

“ _No,_ ” Makoto thought as he walked pressed the _up_ button on the elevator, “ _I’ve known him too long for that._ ” He tried to push it to the back of his mind with other excuses, yet it had already left a nasty aftertaste.

 

He entered the flat to see Haru sitting on the couch watching the sports channel. He turned and gave him a little nod before resuming watching the program, without even a smile, sending another painful thought through his head.

 

Was he losing Haru, as well as Sousuke?

 

Makoto groaned quietly and shrugged off his jacket, heart feeling heavier than it had in a while. The feeling was all too familiar, and he knew there was nothing to do to make it go away.

 

“Haru?” He called, walking into the bathroom, “I’m going to bathe.”

 

“Mh.”

 

Makoto bit the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from saying anything else, and shut the bathroom door, locking it with a soft _click_. He watched himself in the mirror as he slipped his fingers under his tie, watching the fabric unravel with a quiet _whoosh_ and fall to the floor. He shrugged off his black jacket and stepped out of his dress pants, throwing them into the pile in the corner.

 

Watching his fingers unbutton his dress shirt, he counted the many scars that littered his knuckles. Makoto shed the shirt, and turned around to look at his tattoo. It was a Tebori, the colors and patterns so vibrant it almost hurt to look at. Pink cherry blossoms surrounded an ink-black Orca, his group name tattooed just below the nape of his neck.  With a sigh, he discarded his boxers, and moved towards the shower.

 

The lights above the mirror were brighter for some reason, and Makoto found himself having to shield his eyes as he turned on the water. In fact, everything seemed to be more intense – the sound of the water, the lights, his breathing-

 

A sudden, deep jolt ran through his chest and he gasped, clutching at his heart to try and grab at the pain. It was too heavy, like an elephant had sat on his chest, and he couldn’t breathe. It was horrifying, and there was no way he could cry out, no matter how hard he tried. It didn’t hurt like a physical wound, and that was the worst part. It was unreachable, no Band Aid or gauze patch could ever touch it.

 

He was alone again. This was the loneliness that had haunted him for years, relentlessly picking him apart and scattering him into the wind, blowing the pieces of his heart so far away there was no chance at retrieving them. It had manifested after the loss of his family, growing larger with each passing day until he – _Haru_ – had come and soothed it, dulling the pain to nothing but a small prick. Haru was right – he had not picked up the pieces of his heart, no, but he had started to rebuild. And now the person holding him together had removed their hands, leaving him cold, his heart in shambles once again.

 

Makoto took deep breaths, trying to calm the erratic beat of his heart. Each _thump_ echoed throughout the bathroom, drowning out the sound of the water splashing against the tiles, and he fell to his knees.

 

“Not again,” he sniffed, feeling the warm water trickle through his hair and drip down into his face, filling his eyes with hot liquid, “I can’t do this again.”

 

Everything he had worked so hard to build up was falling apart so fast. He had managed to fuck up his new life in only a matter of weeks.

 

Makoto tried to focus on the steady stream of water that fell on his head rather than the thought of being by himself. He had been at his breaking point before all of this had happened – it had been only through luck that Haru had come in as a saving grace. Sousuke had been the one person he could lean on prior.

 

He let himself become immersed in the loud sound of water against tile, breathing in deeply through his nose so that he could almost taste the steam.

 

“ _It will be alright._ ” He thought. “ _I can get through this. I always do._ ”

 

By the time he had collected himself and got out of the shower, Haru was in bed. He hadn’t even bothered waiting to take his bath.

 

**

 

Makoto slipped on his shoes and readjusted his grip on the briefcase, and looked back at Haru, who was in the kitchen, staring intently at a cookbook.

 

“The meeting shouldn’t be long. Call me if you need anything, okay?” Makoto said, trying to sound casual. Haru glanced up from the cookbook and gave him a small nod with a smile. Although Haru seemed alright, he had a bad feeling – why, he didn’t know. At least he was smiling today.

 

“Lock the door after I leave, okay?”

 

“Okay, Makoto.”

 

The tone of his voice indicated that Makoto was beginning to sound too much like a mother, so with a small sigh, he left, closing the door extra tight behind him. Haru was always a bit… _sassy_ , but now it hurt him instead of making Makoto laugh.

 

The weather hadn’t warmed in the least; Makoto’s breath exited his mouth in thick puffs, like cigar smoke, spreading through the cold air and disappearing behind him. Even through his gloves, his fingers were numb, and he desperately wished for a hot cup of coffee. Or liquor.

 

When he arrived, there wasn’t much banter. It was a boring meeting about monthly budgets, finances, etcetera, etcetera, and the only real thing that caught Makoto’s attention as the board leader talked was the absence of none other than Sousuke. He checked his phone, but he had not received any texts or calls from hm. He didn’t know whether to feel angry, anxious, or both.

 

The meeting droned on and on, Makoto drifting in and out of daydreams. Checking the time every five minutes did him no good, either – it made time seem to go slower. Of course, he could really just get up and leave if he wanted, but this was his group after all. It was his responsibility.

 

After what seemed like ages, the board leader stopped and he gave a quick speech congratulating the hard work his men had done and anything else he could think of.

 

The air had chilled some ten degrees from when he had left, causing the blue night sky to almost tint the air with a chilly blue color. The cold air hurt his lungs, and he hurried along the wide walkways towards his flat. As he got closer, he noticed all the lights were off, which was strange – it was only around one in the morning, there should still be men lingering around, if nothing else, awaiting his return.

 

He walked into the large building, hoping to see someone, but no one was in the lobby. He couldn’t find _anyone_. The feeling he had when he had left Haru came back and filled his body with a paralyzing fear, weighing him down like lead.

 

Looking around, he set the briefcase on the floor and pulled his pistol out of his back pocket, turning off the safety with shaky fingers. His footsteps echoed through the wide space as he made his way to the elevator, pressing the top floor button as gently as he could as if to try and reduce the noise.

 

Something was definitely wrong.

 

The hall that lead to his room was dark as well, illuminated by a single overhead light right above his door. He tightened his grip on the gun, and took a deep breath as he approached the door. There were no sounds on the other side, which he couldn’t decide to categorize as good or bad.

 

He licked his lips and called out, “Haru? I’m coming in.”

 

Unlocking the door with his key, Makoto took a moment to do something he had not done in a long time.

 

“ _Mom, Dad, Ren and Ran,”_ he thought, “ _Please,_ please _let Haru be alright_.”

 

With that final prayer, he opened the door to a black abyss. The curtains were shut, allowing no light to creep in through the windows. The bulb over his door only lit up the small area in front of it and nothing more.

 

Cautiously, Makoto stepped in and reached out for the light switch by the side of the door. His numb fingers had trouble, but eventually he found it and with a flick of his fingers turned the lights on, the white light blinding him.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get rid of the dancing colors that decorated his eyelids.

 

Makoto almost wished he had kept them shut.

 

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Haru – only, it was not _just_ Haru.

 

He was tied up, bound and gagged, like some sick bondage movie, tears streaming down his face as his eyes widened at the sight of Makoto. Men in all black stood behind them, masked faces emotionless as Haru writhed at their feet.

 

Every muscle of Makoto’s body seemed to fail him in that moment. He could not walk forward. He could not turn around. The gun slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor near his feet, but Makoto couldn’t even register the noise. He knew it. He _knew_ it. The feeling Makoto had taken with him when he had left had hung around in the air for a reason.

 

Rin really hadn’t been bluffing.

 

Haru desperately tried to yell, only to have his voice muffled by a wad of red cloth. It looked like he was motioning to something, but to what, Makoto couldn’t-

 

 _Crack_.

 

A sharp pain blossomed on the back of his head and ran through his skull, causing his vision to go black and red around the edges. Whatever cry that had crawled up from his throat was choked back as he fell to the floor, completely paralyzed by sheer surprise. He managed to turn himself over so he landed on his back – something he had learned a long time ago – so he could see his attacker.

 

As expected, Rin was standing over him, his sharp teeth gleaming in a wicked smile. He was saying something, but Makoto felt as if he had cotton balls in his ears, so his words were muffled, but it looked like he was calling someone over.

 

Makoto thought that maybe it was one of his men, or maybe Haru. Maybe even Kisumi had come and ratted him out somehow; but oh, if only it had been that.

 

A man, tall and bulky, with sleek black hair stood over him in a suit with a red tie. His face wore no expression, but his eyes…

 

…Droopy aquamarine eyes, with long laugh lines along the sides. Eyes he knew all too well.

 

“Sousuke?” He slurred, his own eyes widening in surprise. He had been right. The pain in his head was now nothing compared to the pain in his heart.

 

“I’m sorry.” Sousuke’s muffled voice had no sympathy to it, and he raised his foot so it came to hover over Makoto’s face.

 

“Sou-!“

 

Sousuke’s narrowed eyes were the last thing Makoto saw before his foot came down on his head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wel p!1!!!! nice one sou
> 
> Sorry for the delay, I had a lot going on with holidays and such.  
> I'm estimating about two/three more chapters to this story!! 
> 
> hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading ^^  
> [beta creds](http://akikolikesstuff.tumblr.com/)  
> [my tumblr](http://otomeflakes.tumblr.com/)


	10. News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News travels quickly in Iwatobi.

It had been a late night; the last of the workers were just heading home, and the place was its usual disarray of abandoned single bills and messy ashtrays. Nagisa surveyed the mess, thankful that it wasn’t as bad as last week – that stain had cost a _lot_ to remove – and started to get to work on the booths, inspecting each for loose change, or… other things.

 

While he was busy wiping down the biggest platform, that adorned the most beautiful pole he owned – as Rei had commented once – when he heard a loud yawn from behind him. He looked up from the onyx black floor only to see Rei walking towards him, rubbing his eyes with a large folder under one arm.

 

“Rei-chan, you’re done already?” Nagisa chirped, setting down the mop and going to the edge of the platform, where the glittery pink lights glowed along the edge. Rei hummed sleepily as set the folder at Nagisa’s feet, leaning against the stage.

 

“Yeah. I wanted everything done so tomorrow night would be free for both of us.”

 

The Pink Penguin was run Monday through Saturday, open five pm to one am. For some reason, this past week had been the busiest yet, and both Rei and Nagisa were eager for a day off.

 

“Aw, Rei-chan, how nice!” Nagisa laughed, lowering himself so he sat beside Rei, letting his legs dangle off the side. Rei smiled and reached for the folder, opening it and pulling out a large stack of yellow forms. He moved closer to Nagisa, and set the papers on his lap.

 

“Business has been really good, Nagisa-kun. I never would’ve guessed you could run two businesses simultaneously.” Rei was of course referring to the underground drug trade that was going on behind the scenes. The club had initially started out as a cover up, but Nagisa had grown quite fond of it – and now was raking in double the cash.

 

“We-eeeell,”he sang, swinging his legs, “that’s because I have Rei-chan to help me!” Rei smiled and watched as Nagisa took the papers and skimmed them over, his bright eyes lazily moving over the many numbers and words.

 

The pink and yellow lights had been turned off, and had been replaced with the normal lights. The black walls and floor were dirty – Rei made a note to clean them off later, _properly_ – but besides that, the rest of the club looked good. The bar was neat, all the other platforms had been tidied, and Rei had to take a moment to admire Nagisa’s ambitious drive.

 

“Nagisa-kun,” he said, tilting his head as he stared at the slowly rotating disco ball, “why… did you choose a strip-club? As a cover-up, I mean.”

 

Nagisa looked up from his papers, blond curls bouncing, and gave Rei a curiously look. He pursed his lips, and set aside the papers. “Well,” he began, tapping his chin with a finger, “I guess because I used to do some pole work too.”

 

Rei snapped his head towards Nagisa and gave him a look of pure disbelief. His eyes widened and he quickly shook his head, holding out his hands.

 

“N-No! Not in a strip-club like this one! It was just… on the side. I did it sometimes – it was more for fun than for profit.”

 

Rei was confused for a moment – he was not concerned that Nagisa had done it, rather, he was _surprised_ he had done it. Maybe even a little hurt that his lover hadn’t mentioned this talent sooner.

 

“Nagisa-kun, that’s not why I…” Rei found his mouth to be extremely dry and he swallowed, trying to bring the words back into his mouth. Nagisa gave Rei a moment to finish, but when he didn’t, gave a little sigh and leaned back on his hands.

 

“…Want me to show you?”

 

Rei blinked and opened his mouth to answer, but Nagisa was already running up the stairs to their penthouse, getting god knows what. He stood there, mouth agape, not knowing whether to feel excited or scared. The feeling in his lower gut was leaning more towards excited.

 

After a few minutes of anxious thumb-twiddling, Rei heard Nagisa’s voice from behind the _EMPLOYEE’S ONLY_ door.

 

“Rei-chan!” He called, voice muted, “Close your eyes and take a seat in front of the big stage!”

 

Rei complied, seating himself in one of the large, black chairs that circled the stage in a U shape. It took some effort to will himself to shut his eyes, but he managed, just as the lights began to dim. The bright lids faded and were replaced with the usual pink glow that could be seen through his eyelids. Nagisa must’ve gone full-out.

 

He heard the door open and shut, and heard the quick rap of heels against the hard floor. Something twitched in his gut as the sound of stilettos echoed throughout the room, but he managed to keep himself grounded by pinching his thigh.

 

“Rei-chan” Nagisa cooed, his voice sweet and syrupy, mixing with a smooth tune that had begun to play “Open your eyes~.”

 

Rei’s eyes snapped open, the glow of the stage temporary blinding him. When he had blinked away the dots that danced in his eyes, he was met with shiny, clear heels, almost close enough to touch.  Rei hardly had time to notice the purple butterflies trapped in the front of the heel, obviously fake, but vibrant, nonetheless. Something in him began to unwind as he trailed his vision up creamy legs, covered with a sheer black cloth, tapering off at the thighs, and attaching to a pair of dark magenta panties adorned with a large bow in the front, directly above a very prominent outline.

 

Rei bit his lip and clutched the arms of the chair as he wandered up from the panties, eyes raking in every detail of his abdomen, lingering longer than needed on his slightly flushed, bare chest. A black choker was wrapped around his lithe neck, littered with jewels and standing out against his skin. His arms, which were held high above his head and were gripping the pole, were adorned with sheer purple gloves, matching the colors of his panties, and also glittered with jewels.

 

He gazed down at Rei with hooded eyes, his eyelids sparkling with a deep violet eye shadow. He grinned, his dark, red lips shining in the dull light of the disco ball. Rei did everything he could to control himself, but he could already feel himself getting hard.

 

“Like what you see?” Nagisa purred, sliding down the pole, crouching with his legs spread wide.

 

Rei gripped the chair tighter and leaned forward, trying to ignore his heart hammering in excitement.

 

“Beautiful.” he whispered, the word no more than a puff of air. Nagisa grinned and slowly slid back up, making a show of himself by arching his back.

 

He began by circling around the pole slowly, letting his hand loosely grip the shiny metal and making sure to exaggerate the movement of his hips. He then smoothly wrapped his leg around the pole, leaning back and spinning around it.

 

As he spun, he grabbed the pole with both hands and unhooked his leg so he could roll his hips in short, smooth thrusts, his crotch barely brushing the metal each time. Rei gulped as he arched his back, letting his chest slide down the metal.

 

With one fluid movement, Nagisa lifted himself of the ground, his ankles locked tight around the pole, with one hand grasping it as he lolled his head back in a slow roll, showing off the collar that was tied around his neck. He suddenly let go of the pole, and leaned back until he was upside-down, almost eye level with Rei. Even with Nagisa the wrong way, Rei couldn’t help but get lost in his pink eyes, gleaming with a dark excitement.

 

It only lasted for a moment, though, as Nagisa suddenly pulled his chest back up and grabbed the pole, unlocking his ankles and letting himself slowly slide down into a split. Rei’s cock jumped in his pants, hitting against the zipper painfully.

 

“N-Nagisa,” He choked, palming at himself as he watched Nagisa draw himself back up. Nagisa’s eyes landed on Rei’s hand, and a wicked grin crossed his lips.

 

“Rei-chan,” he teased, stepping away from the pole and strutting in slow, precise steps towards the edge of the stage, “you want a _private_ dance?”

 

Rei found himself unable to answer, and instead gave a keening whine, pushing down harder on his clothed erection. Nagisa breathed a laugh and carefully hopped down from the stage, making sure to stretch his legs as he slid down, the jewels catching the light of the stage.

 

Rei let out a breathy moan as Nagisa approached his chair, turning around as he got to Rei’s feet, allowing him to soak in his cloth-covered ass. He almost reached out a hand to grab him, but Nagisa had already begun to move, swiveling his hips down on Rei’s crotch. Rei let out a shaky breath and allowed his hands to trail Nagisa’s taut back, fingers moving lightly over his spine.

 

Nagisa let out a little mewl of his own and flipped himself over, bringing his legs up to straddle Rei. In perfect time to the song, he began lightly grinding down right on Rei’s erection, causing the other man to cry out.

 

Rei needed to distract himself from the throbbing pain in his pants, so while Nagisa continued to rub up against him, he grabbed his hair in a hand and brought him close, devouring his lips with quick, heated kisses. His dark lipstick smeared across Rei’s cheeks and mouth, and he could taste it on his own tongue.

 

Nagisa instantly opened up to him and allowed their tongues to mingle, while continuously pushing their crotches together with more force every time. Rei felt a sharp tension in his lower gut and moaned into the blonde’s mouth, trying to signal that if Nagisa didn’t stop soon, he’d cum in his pants like a fifteen year old.

 

Nagisa, god bless him, understood and withdrew his lips with a sharp _pop_ , a dark red strand of saliva hanging off of his chin. Like a minx, he slinked off of Rei’s lap and onto his knees, hands ghosting over his shirt and thighs, rubbing the bulge in his pants.

 

“ _Ghk!_ ” Rei made a choking noise and jolted as Nagisa began to nuzzle Rei’s erection with his nose and mouth, spreading the lipstick along his zipper. Nagisa did his best not to laugh as he watched Rei, evaluating his reactions. Rei reached his hand down and stroked Nagisa’s cheek, tracing his jawline with a finger and letting it linger under his chin.

 

Nagisa leaned back and took the finger in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and sucking harshly. Rei’s hips bucked as he watched Nagisa bob his head on his finger, coating it in a sticky red. He couldn’t wait anymore – his dick was _really_ starting to hurt – so he withdrew his hand, and set both behind his head, moving back and allowing Nagisa full access to his pants. His eyes gleamed as he brought his face closer to his zipper again, and as carefully as he could, took it between his teeth. He stared Rei in the eyes as he moved his head down, the sound of the zipper drowning out all other noise.

 

Just as Rei felt Nagisa’s hot breath skim over his boxers, a loud, shrill beeping startled them both out of their lusty haze.

 

“Rei, it’s my phone.” Nagisa groaned, pulling back, “It might be business, I gotta get it.”

 

Rei could literally feel his heart shatter in his chest. “B-but Nagisa-“

 

His pleas went unheard as Nagisa slowly got up and trotted away into the back room, leaving Rei with an aching, painful boner and a mess of _Stunner Red by Cam_.

 

Rei felt as if he could cry – he probably would of, if it were not for Nagisa’s sudden cry from the back room.

 

“ _Rei!_ ”

 

Despite his awful case of blueballs, Rei shot up quicker than ever before, and in no time was in the bedroom, holding Nagisa in his arms.

 

“What? What’s wrong?” He stressed, taking Nagisa’s cheeks into his hands. No longer was his skin a lively pink, rather now it was a pale white, almost transparent.

 

“Haru-chan and M-Mako-chan, they, the Sharks-“

 

Rei couldn’t understand a word he was mumbling, but by the look on Nagisa’s face he knew something was seriously wrong. He had caught the ‘Haru and Makoto’ bit of it, but that was about it.

 

“Nagisa,” he said, stroking the blond’s cheeks, “Nagisa, slow down. Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

His lower lip trembled as he clutched his phone in his hands, his grip so tight his knuckles were white. Nagisa swallowed before pushing out the words.

 

“Makoto… and Haruka have been taken.

 

Rei felt himself pale, the room suddenly seeming ten degrees colder.

 

“We have to go get them, right now-“ Nagisa began, ripping himself away from Rei and hastily unclasping his shoes, throwing them to the side.

 

“Wait,” he said, running after Nagisa, who had started on a path upstairs, “I know you’re upset, but you have to think about this. Remember last time we-“

 

“Yes! I remember last time!” Nagisa snapped, not even looking back as he climbed the stairs, “And if we don’t do something to help, Makoto could end up _dead_ this time around!”

 

As much as Rei understood Nagisa’s relationship with Makoto, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of anger rise up in his throat.

 

“You can’t risk your life for a business partner!”

 

This time, Nagisa swiveled around. “He is _not_ just a business partner, Rei!”

 

They stood a few steps away from each other – Nagisa was almost at the top of the stairs, making him the taller one, and Rei had to admit, he did look more intimidating; despite his lack of clothing, of course.

 

“Well?” he asked, running his hand through his hair and adjusting his askew glasses, “we need to decide.”

 

“Yes,” Nagisa murmured, and turned back to continue up the stairs,

 

“and we need to decide _fast_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M sORRY I THREW YOU A REIGISA CHAPtER anD NOW You hAVE TO WAIt. but this is important!
> 
> will nagisa make it in time?? **WE SHALL KNOW IN CHAPTER 11**
> 
> well, next chapter _will_ be the last; i'm not quite sure if there will be an epilogue or not.
> 
> once again, thank you for supporting this story. i love reading all of your comments about the story and plot and whatnot.  
> [my tumblr](http://otomeflakes.tumblr.com/)  
> [beta's tumblr](http://akikolikesstuff.tumblr.com/)
> 
> PS - [the song nagisa was dancing to.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zmS3Qh_SFwU) ur welcome.


	11. Stitches - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Makoto will have to endure._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning - Heavy trigger for torture: violence, abuse, blood, burning, mutilation, etc.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Please let me know if you need me to send you an edited version without torture. I will be more than happy to.

“I…wa….im ou….”

 

Makoto rocked his head to the side, trying to clear the stuffy feeling in his ears. He couldn’t open his eyes – rather, something was in front of his eyes, depriving him of his sight. He could only make out the muddled voices of people surrounding him, and through the darkness, he could make out one single overhead light. At some point, he had been stripped of his jacket and shirt, and could feel the chilly, damp air sting at his skin.

 

“…co…in…w...say.”

 

He moved his head again and groaned, the cloth in his mouth vibrating against his cheeks. Despite the way his head pounded, he could remember what happened. Makoto knew exactly how he had ended up like this, and he had a very _, very_ good idea of what was going to happen next.

 

Although he had tried his best to speak out, the voices continued chattering around him. He was bound to what he presumed was a chair, splintered pieces of wood digging into his hands, but it did nothing to distract him from the rope rubbing against his wrists, burning the skin. Both his feet were bound to the wooden legs, and he knew he had been immobilized; the chances of escaping had dropped from a 50% to nearly 0%. Panic began to bubble in his stomach as he realized – what if Haru was in here with him? Would he have to suffer the same fate?

 

He groaned again, louder, and flexed his hands against the bonds, shaking the chair. The muffled voices ceased at once, and the air around him stilled. The only thing he could hear was his own labored breathing. The clogging in his ears had begun to clear out, and the rattle of an A/C unit could be heard from above him. Everything was still pitch-black, and it hurt too much to move his head, but-

 

At that moment, his blindfold was ripped off with brute force, tearing some of his hair right out of his scalp. Makoto’s grunt of pain was blocked off by the wet clod of fabric in his mouth, and he couldn’t do anything about the blinding brightness that shimmered before his eyes. The way the lights danced reminded him of the night in the snow, where he had almost died. Makoto was sure that whatever was happening would be similar to that night.

 

Once he had recovered his vision, Makoto gathered his bearings. Dark green room, walls rusted and chipped, pipes in the left corner. No door to be seen and a dark grey metal floor, easily washable. His eyes flickered to the dark figures that lurked in the corners and along the walls; he counted three masked faces, stiff and unmoving. And standing in front of him was a man who wore no mask, with vibrant red hair, but no Haru.

 

Rin wore a plain black t-shirt with dark, ragged jeans, which was very different than his normal attire. There was a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, the bud glowing red in the dim light of the room. He also was sporting black latex gloves on both hands that sent a jolt of fear straight through Makoto’s heart. Gloves equaled messes – and Rin certainly wasn’t cleaning. Not now, at least.

 

“Well, well, well,” he grinned, teeth gleaming in the artificial light, “look at what we have here.”

 

Makoto growled and lunged forward, but was reminded by the way his arms stung that he was bound. Without any way to attack, he rested against the hard back of the chair, glaring up at Rin. He snickered and rested his hands on his hips, an evil glint in his eyes.  

 

“What, you wanna speak?” He mocked, reaching out a hand to pinch his cheeks, his nails digging into the skin, “Fine. Speak.”

 

He took the material in his mouth and tugged, letting the mass of wetcloth fall to the floor. Makoto took a large breath of air and spluttered, his dry tongue finding purchase in the saliva that pooled in his mouth. He fought of the nausea that climbed from his stomach into his throat, and spit, trying to rid the taste of cloth from his tongue.

 

“Bastard,” Makoto snarled, his dry lips splitting, “what have you done with Haru?”

 

Rin stared at him with a raised brow, before shaking his head and letting out a low chuckle. “How cliché, Makoto. Aren’t you going to ask ‘Why am I here?’ or, ‘What are you going to do to me?’ because I’d love to tell you.”

 

Makoto bit his lip in order not to lash out, and watched as Rin waved a hand to one of the men standing against the walls. They moved silently – like shadows – and opened a section of the wall up, then disappeared through it.

 

“A hidden door?” Makoto croaked, rolling his sore neck, “And you’re calling _me_ cliché, Rin?”

 

Rin narrowed his eyes and removed the cigarette from his lips with a flourish, letting the smoke flow from his lips like water. He held it next to his head for a moment, before he brought it down sharply. He felt the hot sting of ash on his chest, burning through his skin like rubber, and though he had expected it, Makoto still cried out in pain.

 

“You are in _no_ ,” Rin hissed, pressing the butt harder to his skin, “position to talk.”

 

Makoto grit his teeth while Rin rubbed it in one final time, twisting the butt into his skin, grinding the ashes in deeper before flicking it to the side of the room, unfazed. He could smell his own flesh burning and it nauseated him to the point where he hung his head, his lips drawn in a tight line.

 

“What,” He whispered, glaring Rin straight in the eyes, “have you done, with _Haru?_ ”

 

It was silent for a moment before there was a small _tch_ and a sudden loud whoosh of air, and he was on his side, head pounding from where it had hit the floor. His vision had blurred again, but he could still make out Rin’s black boots, along with wheels to what seemed to be a tray. It was obvious to him that Rin had flipped the chair sideways, but now he felt even more exposed; more vulnerable, if it was even possible.

 

“Are you deaf?” Rin said, poking at Makoto’s chin with the tip of his boot. It was cold – steel tipped and very, _very_ hard.

 

“I said _no talking_ , Tachibana.”

 

Makoto opened his mouth to reply but was silenced when he felt a heavy force slam right into the center of his stomach, causing all the air in him to escape out his open mouth with a loud gasp. The overwhelming urge to vomit came back, and if it was not for his lack of air, he probably would’ve. Makoto’s vision was filled with black dots, dancing around and threatening to swallow his sight whole.

 

“Boss, the tools-“ the man who had gone out the door stepped next to Rin, but he was pushed away quickly. Makoto couldn’t see the expression on either of their faces, but he knew neither of them were pleasant ones.

 

“I know, I can see. Go out and get him ready.”

 

 _“Get him ready? Who’s_ him _? Ready for_ what _?_ ” Makoto’s mind raced with questions he knew he could not answer, and he once again pulled at his bindings, hoping for a break, a small _twist_ – yet there was no such luck for him. He groaned despite his warnings and squeezed his eyes shut, not knowing what else to do. At this point, there wasn’t really anything he could do, anyway.

 

“Listen here, Tachibana” Rin said as he grabbed ahold of the back of Makoto’s chair and heaved it upright letting the chair wobble a bit before he removed his hand. Makoto kept his eyes on the shiny tips of his shoes, trying to imagine what it would’ve been like if he had felt the metal on his face rather than his stomach. The thought alone had him cringing.

 

“This is payback for the shit you’ve put me through, yeah?” Makoto suddenly felt something cold pressed against his cheek, startling him, and he flicked his eyes to the side, only to see the barrel of a gun. A chill ran through his sweat-soaked body as Rin pressed the gun harder to his cheek, waiting for an answer; Makoto nodded, making sure to keep his eyes on the trigger.

 

“If you can’t take it, Haru’ll have to instead.”

 

Makoto lost control of himself for a moment when he heard the venom in Rin’s voice, and he knew he was dead serious.

 

“ _No!_ ” He hissed, bringing his head up to glare into Rin’s eyes. Rin smirked and raised the gun, letting Makoto think he was bringing it away, but it came back down in a glittering flash, colliding with his cheek with a loud _crack._ His head was thrown to the side, and even in the blinding pain, the words remained present in his mind. He couldn’t let Rin do this to Haru. He wouldn’t allow it.

 

Suddenly, memories of when he had first become yakuza came flooding back to him. All the hurt he had gone through, the pain, the broken bones, and the blood – everything, every single minor detail played back before his eyes, and he realized: even with all the shit he went through then, he was alive now. Whatever Rin was going to dish out, he could definitely take.  “ _This will be nothing,_ ” Makoto tried to convince himself, _“Nothing at all._ ” Especially if it meant protecting Haru.

 

Makoto would have to endure.

 

He kept his head turned as blood began to pool in his mouth and drip out from his lips, the irony taste coating his tongue like glue, and he could feel it flowing from his now loosened teeth. Makoto gathered what he could and spit it to the floor, his cheek throbbing painfully.

 

“Anything else you’d like to say?” Teased Rin, tracing his jaw with the tip of the gun. Makoto let out a shaky sigh and shook his head, but not before noticing that the man in the corner had turned away and had his head down.

 

Rin gave a small laughand smacked him again, lighter this time, but painful nonetheless. He felt fresh blood fill his mouth as Rin set the gun down, letting out a content hum as he did so.

 

“You know,” he said, as Makoto heard him pick something else up, “when you took Haru, you really fucked me up.”

 

Makoto said nothing, and focused on the blood dripping down his throat in thick wads, completely oblivious to the click of a blowtorch. Rin continued talking nonsense as the heat began to touch Makoto’s skin, warming it uncomfortably.

 

“Makoto, I want you to look at me.”

 

He licked his bloody lips, trying to decide what was better – turn and see what was waiting for him, or disobey and not see it coming at all?

 

Reluctantly, he rolled his head so that he was facing Rin once more, a shark-like grin plastered on his face. Makoto allowed his eyes to wander to his hands, and there, enveloped in black latex, was a screwdriver, the tip white with heat. 

 

He cringed when Rin picked out the blowtorch from the metal tray, and clicked the trigger once, twice, letting the short burst of flames come too close to Makoto’s face, and even singeing the ends of his hair.

 

Makoto could feel the sweat on his back and head, and _oh_ , how he wanted to scream, how he wanted to tell him to _stop_ , but he knew that if that were to happen, the consequences would be even worse.

 

“What, no complaints?” Rin gasped, mocking surprise, as he set down the blowtorch and ghosted the screwdriver over Makoto’s clothed thighs. Even through the fabric of his pants, the heat stung with a burning intensity that made Makoto want to jerk away from the metal.

 

Makoto squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to block out the sound of Rin’s laughter by filling his mind with the things that he loved most. He pictured his family, the days when he’d take Ren and Ran to the beach. That one time when the power went out and they had built a fort together. The first time he had seen Haru, how hard he had fallen, the sensation of it all. The first time they had sex, how _beautiful_ he had looked. Haru, Haru, _Haru_ -

 

There was a sudden sizzling sound and a great burst of pain exploded on his right thigh, travelling up all the way to his neck, and his eyes shot open, a scream escaping his ragged lips. All he saw was white, the burn of the screwdriver painting the color into his brain. He could feel the metal sliding straight down into the meat of his thigh, smooth as slipping a knife through butter - he could smell the burning flesh, _his_ burning flesh, and Makoto screamed again, letting the long, agonizing wail fill his ears.

 

After an exaggerated twist, he felt it being pulled out, the metal scraping the undamaged skin torturously slow. His vision faded back in slowly, creeping in around the edges, but he wishes it hadn’t. All he saw was Rin reheating the screwdriver to go at it again.

 

“I didn’t know you could be that loud, Makoto,” he laughed, inspecting the metal as if it were a gem, “the _others_ in the room over _surely_ heard you.”

 

Makoto’s eyes shot wide open at that, completely ignoring the intimidating wave of the screwdriver, and all of the fears he had been suppressing suddenly came tumbling down onto him. There were others, _others_ meaning Makoto’s men. _Others_ meaning Haru.

 

Makoto barely had time to react before Rin was tracing lines in his stomach with the screwdriver, scraping across his abdomen and coloring in the space where a bruise was already blossoming from the kick earlier. He howled again, trying to mask the sound of his skin being burned right off his body. It burned, oh god, it _burned_ , and he briefly thought of his family.

 

Was this what it was like? Did they have to sit and suffer through the flames, watching each other burn before their very eyes? Knowing that they would die, that the only remains of their bodies would be scattered to the wind?

 

His voice cracked as his scream raised in volume, his throat dry from the air, but he continued to let it out as Rin peppered his torso in quick, short lines.

 

When the metal had finally cooled, Makoto’s breathes were coming in quick, painful pants. His whole body was throbbing, and despite the cold air of the room, he was sweating profusely.  He glanced down to see the damage, and saw only red and pink marks scattered along his body. They did not bleed – the heat from the metal had cauterized them fairly quickly, but that did _not_ mean that they didn’t hurt.

 

When Rin set down the screwdriver, Makoto let out an unintentional sigh of relief and let his head fall back, so he was staring at the ceiling.  He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t bother to look. There was no point anymore. Whatever happened, happened.

 

Makoto didn’t know how long it continued on. It just went from one thing to another. Rin broke his toes, gave him a break. Punched him until he was about to pass out, then gave him a break. It was a cycle: torture, break, torture, break. It was never-ending blood and screaming and pain.

 

Rin’s gloves dripped red as he stripped them off his hands and threw them to the floor. He was saying something, but Makoto was walking the line between consciousness and unconsciousness. Nothing really hurt anymore at that point, he was just numb. He wished for death to come and take him, like it should have so many times before, but he immediately pushed the thought away. This was for Haru. Every cut and burn and scrape and kick was _for Haru._

 

“Oi, it’s time.” Rin called as he pushed the tray away with his foot, letting rattle and crash into the wall. Had Makoto any strength left, the noise would have shaken Makoto, but instead he merely turned his head turning towards the noise. Rin stepped aside and motioned to the hidden door, “Bring him in.”

 

It was silent besides the loud squeaking of the door as it opened, revealing a dark abyss of nothing. Makoto wondered if they were bringing in an animal to finish him off, or if they were bringing in a professional, or-

 

Blue. Deep, brilliant blue. The kind you only see in paintings, where the artist slaved hours upon hours to get just the right color by mixing thousands upon thousands of paints.

 

No, this was far worse than any animal. Far worse than any executioner. Yet somehow, he was relieved. Relieved to see that he was okay. That he was unharmed.

 

The word slipped past his bloodied lips in a final plea of mercy.

 

“Haru…”

 

-

They had said he wouldn’t have to see anything.

 

They never said he wouldn’t have to _hear_ anything.

 

It was torture in and of itself. Having to sit in the dark, bound by handcuffs, listening to the agonizing screams of Makoto, was almost too much to bear. Time seemed to become lost to him, and he counted time by the number of noises he heard from the other room. Rin’s voice could be heard as well, and it did nothing but make him even sicker to his stomach.

 

Haru figured that Rin was doing it on purpose – having him listen, that is. Punishment, perhaps, for falling in love with him-

 

Haru blinked as the thought crossed him mind. He had always denied to himself that there was _no way_ he loved Makoto; it just wasn’t possible for him to open completely like that. Yet, the more he thought about it, and the more he mulled it over, he grew closer and closer to “ _Shit, maybe I do love him_.”

 

It definitely wasn’t the time to be worrying about it, because right then and there he heard Rin’s booming voice.

 

“Oi, it’s time. Bring him in.”

 

Haru’s arms were suddenly grabbed, and he was shoved forward as a door opened, filling the space with a bright light.

 

“Move.” A voice murmured next to his ear, and he was shoved forward onto the metal floor, stumbling to catch himself. It stunk of burning meat and blood, and before he even laid his eyes on him, he knew what he was going to see.

 

There, in a small, wooden chair, sat Makoto, hands bound behind him and feet tied to the legs. His body, starting from his legs, were cut and caked in blood, especially his torso, where burns and cuts littered his chest. Dried blood was painted along his jaw, and the right side of his face was bruised considerably.

 

He still managed to look Haru in the eyes and crack a small, painful smile.

 

Haru felt his knees give out, and he began to tumble to the floor, but was caught by the men standing behind him. His mouth hung open, words unable to make it past his lips, as he stared on in horror. This was his fault. The reason Makoto has gone through hell was because of him. He looked to Rin, who was staring at him with a neutral expression.

 

“Haru.” Makoto whimpered, and sat up, wincing as he did so. It looked so painful to even move, Haru couldn’t fathom how he managed to – let alone how we was even conscious right now.

 

“Makoto, I-“ He began to speak, his voice coming out in a jumbled mess, but he was cut off by Rin, who grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him into the room, so that he was standing right in front of Makoto, slipping a bit on the liquid that coated the floor.

 

“Well, I’m tired.” Yawned Rin, stretching his arms high above his head and letting his elbow rest on Haru’s shoulder. His touch was cold, and he flinched, but he found himself unable to move from the spot. Makoto’s eyes were sad as he watched them both, yet he kept his lips closed.

 

“Let’s finish this, yeah?”

 

Something very hard was suddenly shoved into his chest, causing the air in his lungs to come out in a puff of air. He raised his hand to catch it before it fell, and his fingers wrapped around an all too familiar shape. Haru’s eyes widened as his fingers traced down the barrel, and what Rin meant finally hit him.

 

 _No_.

 

Haru looked down to see a bloodied gun pressed tight against his chest, staining his already dirtied shirt with the red color. His hand began to tremble and he shook his head, trying to get across that _no, no I won’t do this_ and _I can’t_ , but Rin ignored his desperate shaking and clasped his hand over Haru’s, moving it so that it he extended his arm outwards.

 

He couldn’t do anything as Rin centered the tip of the gun right in the middle of Makoto’s forehead, and let Haru’s hand go. Makoto was looking up at him with sorrowful eyes, brows creased in both pain and empathy.

 

“Rin,” Haru’s voice shook as he looked to his side where he stood, “I-I can’t… I can’t do this…!”

 

Trying to move the gun away did nothing, as Rin would firmly place his hand back into position. Haru felt tears prickle in the corners of his eyes as he stared down at the gun, and at the mark it was leaving on Makoto’s sweaty head.

 

“Haru” Makoto choked lifting his head just a bit, “if you don’t do this, you’ll end up the same as me. Please, don’t make me see that. I know it’s selfish of me, but Haru” he paused, wincing slightly,

 

“… _please kill me_.”

 

That was it for Haru. Silent tears began spilling from his eyes and he dropped the gun to his side, and coved his mouth with a shaky hand. _“No, no no”_ and _“Why, why why,_ ” repeated over and over again in his brain as his tears hit the metal floor, creating an eerie pattern of noise.

 

“Haru, you heard the man,” Rin growled, pulling Haru back down to earth, “kill him.”

 

His whole body trembled now, blood filling his mouth as he repeatedly bit into his cheeks and tongue. The gun in his hand felt like trying to lift a boulder, and bringing it up to Makoto’s head proved to be a struggle. Makoto was still smiling, which seemed to hit Haru even harder.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as fresh tears rolled from them, “Makoto, I’m so sorry.”

 

He placed his finger on the trigger as he heard Makoto sigh. He wouldn’t look – _couldn’t_ look, yet Makoto’s soft voice almost made them snap open.

 

“Don’t apologize, Haru. None of this is your fault.”

 

“But-“ Haru went to argue, but was interrupted by Rin.

 

“Oi!” He snapped, “Get on with it.”

 

Haru bit his lip and squeezed his eyes tighter, turning his head as far as he could. His finger danced on the trigger, lightly pushing at it, yet he wasn’t able to press hard enough. No matter how he tried, he just _couldn’t_ -

 

“Haru,” Makoto’s voice rang out, silky and smooth, reminding Haru of the day he had first gone to his room, when Makoto comforted him, how _gentle_ and _kind_ he had been, how his hands had felt upon his own cold skin, how tenderly he had once wrapped his ankle, how soft his lips had felt on his own and along his body – Haru reluctantly opened his eyes, sticky with tears, and turned his head to face Makoto.

 

Makoto’s own eyes shone brightly with unshed tears, as he looked up at Haru with a look he could only describe as pure, unrestrained love, and Haru choked back a sob.

 

Makoto opened his mouth again, the words coming out in labored breaths.

 

“Please look at me when you shoot me, Haru,” He swallowed, a small, empty laugh hissing past his lips,

 

“I want your eyes to be the last thing I see.”

 

It was then, it that moment, that Haru found the answer he had been looking for all along. It didn’t come like a kick to the gut, or a slap to the face – no, it came like a steady stream of water, slowly washing his body clean, trickling over every inch of his skin.

 

He was in love with Makoto.

 

So desperately, tragically in love with him. All along, all this _time_ , all the doubt and denial was for nothing, because he knew that deep down the answer had always been there. Maybe he was just scared to open up and let Makoto in, but he had somehow managed to invade Haru’s heart anyway, ever since day one.

 

Haru didn’t even have to think about it. There was no way he could shoot Makoto now - but there were other’s to shoot besides him.

 

Time seemed to all but stop when Haru swung the gun over in one, fluid movement, bringing it to rest at the base of Rin’s neck as the redhead’s eyes opened wide in alarm, and Haru allowed all the memories and hatred that had been boiling under his skin to surface; with a sweaty finger, he grasped the trigger, and was about to push when he felt something pressed to the back of his _own_ neck.

 

“Pull that trigger and you’re going down with him, Nanase.” A low voice rumbled in his ear, startling Haru and giving Rin enough time to push the gun out of his grasp, and sent it clattering to the floor.

 

“…Sousuke?” Makoto’s voice cracked in surprise, and the hair on the back of Haru’s neck stood up. He stood, frozen in place as Rin began to laugh, filling the room with the loud, disturbing sound. He raised his hand and traced Haru’s frozen face with his finger, letting it linger on the underside of his jaw.

 

“You really thought for a moment you could win against me? That you could _rescue_ him?” He chuckled, flicking his finger away. Haru swallowed, anger rising in his throat as he watched Rin walk around him, presumably to Sousuke. He clenched his fists, looking around the room for something, _anything_ to get them out of here. Rin was right: he had thought he could rescue Makoto, and just because he was unarmed didn’t mean he would stop trying.

 

Sousuke himself was completely silent, and kept the gun pressed tight against Haru’s neck. He glanced to the side to look at Makoto, who was no longer wearing his smile. Instead, his face was dark, anger and betrayal obvious in his eyes.

 

“Go ahead, Sousuke” He growled, although it came out more like a sob, “fucking do it, you coward. You’ve already done this much.”

 

Haru could feel the gun begin to shake against his neck, as if Sousuke were trembling. Rin muttered something to Sousuke, and then heard the _click_ of a safety being turned off.

 

“Haru, close your eyes.” Rin said, as if he hadn’t been laughing mere seconds ago.

 

Haru took a deep breath through his nose, and out through his mouth. “No.”

 

He glanced to Makoto, who was staring up at him, eyes wide and wet. If Haru couldn’t save them both, it was better for one of them to at least make it out alive. He gave him a small nod and a smile before facing forward again.

 

“Rin, I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to hurt you. You did save me, and I’m… grateful. But, could you at least do one more thing for me before I die?”

 

Haru stared on straight ahead as he whispered the words, and kept his head high. There was a sound of protest from Makoto, but he was cut off by Rin, whose voice had softened an alarming amount.

 

“…What?”

 

Haru felt a hot tear leak out of the corner of his eye as he opened his mouth, lips trembling with effort.

 

“Please let Makoto live. Promise me, please. It’s my fault, anyway.”

 

“Haru _! No-_ “

 

There was a cracking sound and Makoto’s words turned into a cry of pain, and Haru did his best not to turn and look. It was silent for a long while, save for Makoto’s heavy breathing, before Rin replied, his words barely even a murmur.

 

“Fine. I promise.”

 

More silence. Heavy, lingering silence that pierced Haru’s ears like a spear.

 

“Do it, Sousuke.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha haa ah _fuck_  
>  i was an ass and decided this needed to be two parts. part two will be up soon.  
> I am very sorry. please place as much anon hate on my tumblr as u want.
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](http://otomeflakes.tumblr.com/)  
> [wonderful beta](http://akikolikesstuff.tumblr.com/)


	12. Stitches - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Everything would be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter. of course i cried

People say, when you’re about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. The good, the bad, and everything in between is played back like a film – a long, boring, tragic film.

 

Haru was not interested in that one bit.

 

Yet there he stood, reminiscing the time when he was uncaged, when he was _free_. Every bittersweet detail laid out in a book, each chapter containing a different memory than the last. His childhood and his time with Makoto were the brightest and most colorful, and everything else was a dark, murky blur – the color you get form mixing too many paints. Haru didn’t really mind that those parts were cloudy.

 

Seconds dragged on for what seemed like hours and he feared his memories would run dry; Sousuke’s trembling gun was still pressed hard into the back of his neck, and Haru wondered if Rin would have to do it himself, because this was going nowhere. The only unnerving thing was the silence. It was deafening.

 

A small shift of the gun startled Haru, and he braced himself - tensing every single muscle in his body, and clenching his hands into tight fists to keep them from trembling. Haru wanted to shut his eyes, he really did, but he also wanted to show them that he was strong. There was no way he would just close his eyes and keel over, no. He would die bravely, eyes wide and ready to accept whatever greeted him next.

 

Another shift of the gun. This was it. It’s all over. He tried his best in life-

His body jolted forwards, but… not from the shock of a bullet; he jolted out of surprise. The noise was far off, behind the walls, but it had been loud enough to be in the very room they stood in. There was a split second where everything stood still, everyone confused, before Haru was shoved to the floor, landing roughly on his back and hitting his head on Makoto’s chair with a dull _thump_. Rin was already yelling and Sousuke stood there, looking very confused and very, very relieved.

 

Haru laid on the floor, completely dumbfounded. He wasn’t dead. _He wasn’t dead_. A sudden wave of relief came crashing down onto him and he let out a choked sob; had he really been so willing to die in that moment? He watched as Rin grabbed the gun out of Sousuke’s hands and began screaming into the air, his words muffled by the pounding in Haru’s head. Both Rin and Sousuke exited the room, along with everyone else in the space, leaving Haru and Makoto utterly alone.

 

There was something nudging his back, urgently poking the base of his spine. Haru’s head was swimming but he managed to lift his chin, eyes wandering from the ceiling to a bloodied, wide-eyed face.

 

“Haru? Haru, can you hear me?”

 

Haru cocked his head, squinting as he tried to focus on the voice above him. The back of his head throbbed as he watched the swollen lips move more, words tumbling from them as he tried to make them out over the heavy gunfire that now rang throughout the room.

 

_“When did guns start firing?_ ” He thought hazily as the poking in his back grew more persistent, going from a gentle nudge to a sharp jab. The gunfire seemed to grow louder as his head cleared, each yell and crash amplified a hundredfold. Haru blinked as words began filling his ears, and _oh, shit_.

 

“Makoto!” He yelped, leaping up to his knees and spinning around to face him. Haru felt a bullet whiz past his ear, yet he remained in front of Makoto, who was now sighing in relief.

 

“I thought you’d never snap out of it,” he groaned lightheartedly, “could you… untie me?”

 

Another bullet ricochet off the wall and flew right in front of Haru’s face, but he started working on the ropes at Makoto’s feet, trying to ignore the blood that was rubbing off on his hands and fingers. There was a loud booming sound from outside the room and the floor trembled, almost tipping Makoto’s chair to the side. Smoke began seeping through the cracks around the door, filling the air with a hazy, thick fog not even a minute after the explosion.

 

“Who the _fuck_ would bring bombs to attack Rin with?” Haru yelled as he moved to untie Makoto’s hands, who laughed weakly in response. The sound of heavy footsteps above them made the light shake so that their shadows danced across the walls, making it a little hard for Haru to see where the knots were.

 

“I have a pretty good idea, actually.” Makoto yelled back as Haru slipped the rope free from his hands, pressing his hands against Makoto’s bloodied wrists.

 

The footsteps grew louder as the gunfire grew quieter, and Haru frantically looked for a way out other than the door. There was an air vent in the corner – large enough for him, but there was no way Makoto was getting through that, especially not right now – but that was it.

 

“Makoto, can you stand?” Haru turned to him and crouched down, placing his hands on his knees. Haru could see the rips and tears in his pants where blood was still seeping out, slowly soaking the already darkened fabric. He swallowed down the vomit that began scaling its way up his throat and tried to focus on Makoto’s face, but that wasn’t much better.

 

Makoto grunted and tried to raise himself, but it was obvious he wasn’t going anywhere – his legs shook like they were on vibrate, and his breathing was burdened.

 

“I’m sorry, Haru,” he laughed, wincing while Haru tried to soothe him by rubbing his knees, “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

 

He bit his lip, trying to come up with something that could possibly help him, when he noticed that the gunfire and yells of men had all but ceased. Now, the only sound that echoed through the room were footfalls, growing heavier and nearer with each step.

 

Haru thought that maybe it was Rin coming to finish them off, but it did not just sound like one person – it sounded like several, running at top speed towards the room.

 

“Makoto,” Haru started, getting to his feet and taking a stance in front of his chair, ready to make a final effort in protecting him, “if-“

 

“Haru, relax. We’ll be fine.” Makoto said, reaching out a hand to tug at Haru’s shirt. Confused, he turned his head to protest. How could Makoto even say that? Haru knew there were no mirrors around, but _come on_.

 

“What do you-“

 

He was cut off by a loud, shrill yell and the sound of something metal and very, very _large_ being thrown to the ground, a blast of cold air whipping his hair back in a great rush. He spun his head back towards the door – only, it wasn’t there anymore. The large metal door lay on the ground to the side, and in its place stood a raggedly dressed, short blonde, carrying a terrifying looking gun.  His hair was sticking up in all the wrong places, and the vest he was wearing looked like it had been designed by a five year old girl.

 

“ _Hasta La Vista, Baby!_ ” He roared, pointing his gun up to scope out _god_ knows what. A familiar, stuttering voice came from behind him, frantically telling him to move and get out of the line of fire.

 

Haru was ready to bolt, to haul Makoto onto his back and _run_ , when he recognized the burning pink eyes that hand landed on them. His crazy expression faded in an instant as his eyes grew wet, and he stepped forward.

 

“Mako-chan… Haru-chan” he faltered, dropping the gun to the floor. Haru could see people coming up behind him, eyes wide in alarm, and it took all but two seconds before there was a loud cheer and Haru was swamped by people who began to grab at him and wrap the wounds he hadn’t even realize he had.

 

“W-Wait, stop!” Haru said shakily, trying to pull away and turn towards Makoto, but he was also surrounded by men, murmuring and passing bandages around in a circle around the chair.

 

“Haru-chan, Let them handle it. He needs help” he heard, and looked down to see Nagisa pushing his way through the men, “You guys are okay now. We took care of everything.”

 

Haru stood with his mouth agape, not even noticing the sting of antiseptic. _Took care of everything_? What did that mean? He couldn’t have-

 

“Is Rin…?” Haru mumbled, voice higher than anticipated, and Nagisa quickly shook his head after seeing the disbelief plain on his face.

 

“Ah... no! No, actually… he and another man managed to escape, but we rounded up most of his members.” He sighed, wiping his hand across his forehead and smearing muck across it, “He chose a pretty shitty building, it was too easy to track down.”

 

Nagisa looked up at him and gave him a great big smile before tackling him into a rib crushing hug. Haru winced, but reluctantly allowed himself to wrap him arms around the blonde.

 

“Oh Haru-chan, I’m so glad we found you!”

 

Haru side glanced Makoto, who caught his eye while getting a bandage wrapped around his head, and gave him a small, loving smile. Haru swallowed the large lump stuck in his throat, and he squeezed Nagisa just a bit tighter.

 

“Yeah,” he croaked, “me, too.”

 

The next half an hour was spent making sure the building was cleared, and explaining to both Makoto and Haru what had happened – although Haru’s head was so fuzzy, it was a bit hard to concentrate on the blond’s eccentric tone. Nagisa had gotten informed by some of Makoto’s men that he had gone missing and every hour after that was spent tracking them down. With both Nagisa’s men and Makoto’s, they outnumbered Rin greatly and the building was easily taken. Although he apologized many, many times for being so late, Makoto wouldn’t have any of it – partly because he was half conscious.

 

The only thing that concerned them all was the whereabouts of Rin and Sousuke. Haru hoped that Rin had enough of his so called ‘revenge’ and although Makoto wouldn’t say anything; it was painfully obvious he was distraught about Sousuke. No one could really blame him though. Sousuke had been Makoto’s right hand for many years, and had been, really, his only friend.

 

As Haru was holding a water bottle (that had been brought in for them so _graciously_ by Nagisa’s men) to Makoto’s lips for him to drink and Nagisa was finishing off his bandages, Ryugazaki poked his head through the door and cleared his throat.

 

“Perimeter and premises is clear. We can go.”

 

Nagisa gave a happy sigh and stood up, rubbing his hands on his pants. “You ready?”

 

Haru capped the water bottle and set in on the ground before looking up at Makoto, drinking in the warm glow of his eyes. It was over. They could go home – _together_. He placed his hand over Makoto’s knee and gave it a little squeeze.

 

Makoto smiled at him before looking up to Nagisa and giving him a firm nod.

 

“…Let’s get out of this place.”

 

Haru helped him to his feet, and even with the support, his knees still shook like a newborn baby deer. It was _so_ evident he was in pain, yet as he and Haru walked out the door and faced the men, Makoto kept a bright smile on his split lips. The stairs proved to be a bit of a challenge, but eventually they made it to the large broken doors. Haru could feel the cold air slipping through the cracks and he shivered, drawing Makoto closer.

 

“Are you alright?” He murmured to Makoto as Nagisa threw a blanket over them both before going outside. It was a dumb question – of _course_ he wasn’t alright - but Haru still had to ask. Light began to filter through the broken glass windows, pouring into the dusty air and lighten the room with a yellow glow as Nagisa began yelling at his men to start the cars.

 

Makoto’s lips twitched as he looked forward out into the sunrise, dancing orange on the horizon. The stars were beginning to fade as rays of bright oranges and sherbet pinks peeked over the buildings and housetops, and Haru could see the shades reflect in his eyes.

 

“Yeah. I have you.”

 

Haru felt his chest tighten to the point where it was hard to even breathe, and an overwhelming swell of emotion bubbled into his chest. He tried to open his mouth, but it was trembling _far_ too much to even get a sound past his lips. Luckily, Nagisa interrupted them.

 

“C’mon you two, we gotta get to the hospital!” Nagisa called from outside, his breath swirling into a misty cloud. Haru heard Makoto groan from besides him in almost an annoyed manner.

 

“But I _hate_ hospitals.” He complained, shoulders sagging dramatically. Haru could see that although Makoto was trying to shrug it off, the pain was getting to be too much.

 

“No, Makoto. Hospital. Now.” Haru didn’t’ even miss a beat, and began pulling him forward, pushing open the doors and leading him to a car.

 

It proved to be a bit of a struggle – getting Makoto into the car, that is. His body was broken, and every slight move caused a spasm of pain to shoot across his face. Sweat dripped down his forehead as they tried to move him to lay down in the car, and his hands shook like a mad man. The men apologized profusely, but being the person he was, he shook his head with a forced smile. The ride proved to be even worse, as the roads were loose and rocky, since they were so far out of Iwatobi.

 

The seriousness of Makoto’s injuries were beginning to break his façade, and his grip on Haru’s hand tightened with each passing second. By the time they reached the hospital, Haru thought his hand was broken; he reminded himself that Makoto was in much more pain than he was, and when the second they entered the building, Makoto collapsed to the ground, unconscious on the cold, hard tile.

 

**

 

When he had woken, his body throbbed with a dull, stinging kind of pain – the kind you get when you press a little too hard on a new bruise. Makoto could barely even feel his face, which he guessed was a good thing. They had listed to him his injuries one by one, each seemingly more gruesome than the last. He could still feel the white hot burn of metal digging into his flesh. Makoto was thankful he hadn’t ended up in the same hospital room, at least.

 

Haru was allowed to visit once or twice a day, but the doctors had made it clear that Makoto needed time to heal. Nagisa offered to take charge of the Orcas, and of course, that meant taking care of Haru as well. Makoto was nervous, but after some reassurance from Haru, he decided it would be best. Besides, at least with Haru at the compound Nagisa couldn’t fuck _everything_ up.

 

There was a lot on his mind, but there were also a lot of drugs being pumped into him to keep the pain at bay. As soon as he could think clearly, he called some of his subordinates into the small hospital room and began discussing the future of the Bell Orcas, and the future of Iwatobi. There was some disagreement of course, but no one wanted to say no to him; after all, he still was boss.

 

He had ordered his men to go and raid the hotel almost immediately after regaining full consciousness, and armed with as many guns as they could carry, they set off on that mission. The only drawback to the whole thing was that it was _abandoned_ ; every trace, every _mark_ that could’ve proved their existence in that building had been wiped away, simply erased – nothing more than a bad dream.

 

The only thing that the men managed to bring back to Makoto was an onyx watch and a small slip of paper, with hastily scribbled numbers written in black ink. Makoto didn’t even have to take a second look at the watch to know who it was from, and he dialed the number as fast as his sore fingers would allow.

 

The phone rang for what seemed like a century before the line was picked up, and for a minute Makoto thought that this was a joke – why in the world would _he_ leave his number for him other than to rub salt in his wounds? Anger pricked at Makoto’s heavy heart as he drew the phone away from his ear and hovered his thumb over the “End Call” button. The red button was not even a centimeter away before he heard the all too familiar tone.

 

“…Makoto?” His voice sounded clear as day, as if he were standing right at his bedside. Makoto cringed, and hesitantly raised the phone back up to his ear. His tongue felt like sandpaper as he tried to push the sticky words from his throat.

 

“Sousuke… why did you leave your watch?” It was painful to even speak, but somewhere deep inside of him ached even worse when he heard the trembling sigh from the other end of the call.

 

“…It felt right.” He paused, “I don’t think apologizing is going to do anything.”

 

Makoto gave a dry chuckle, and shook his head to himself. “No. It’s not.”

 

Another sigh came from Sousuke, and then more silence crackled between them. Makoto chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to come up with a sound to break the silence.

 

“Why did you do it, Sou?” He finally murmured, watching the blinking lights of the monitors flash like traffic lights. There was a choked sort of noise from the speaker, but Makoto didn’t say anything.

 

“You… you know, how you felt,” Sousuke’s voice was thick and trembling, “when you saw Nanase for the first time? It was like that.”

 

Makoto’s breath hitched in his throat – _what?_

 

“You mean…” He started slowly, his brain moving far slower than he wanted it to.

 

“…Yeah. I just… fuck, fell for him? I mean, I knew it was wrong and all but every time we’d talk about killing Rin I’d get this really weird feeling and I didn’t want to _say_ anything but God, I couldn’t just fucking-“

 

“Sousuke” Makoto interrupted, “stop. I get it.”

 

A weird, strangled noise came from the phone that made Makoto jump a bit, and he swore he could hear someone cursing under their breath.

 

“I’m sorry about what I did to you, Makoto,” he pause and there was a soft sound, like he had turned his head to look at something, “…but I’m not sorry about what I left for.”

 

He was stunned for a moment – the tone of Sousuke’s voice was unlike any he had heard before – but he found himself smiling, oddly enough. If Sousuke was happy where he was, Makoto had no right to try and pull him away from that. It was going to hurt, yes, but letting Sousuke do what he wanted was better than forcing him to be something they both knew just couldn’t happen anymore.

 

“Hey, Sou” Makoto grinned, a bittersweet feeling rumbling in his chest, “stay safe, yeah?”

 

The line grew quiet for a long while before Makoto heard a heavy swallow, and a broken laugh.

 

“Yeah, Makoto. You too.”

 

**

 

After many weeks in the hospital, Makoto found it strange to be walking outside again. He drank in the sight of the early spring flowers beginning to bud on the ground, and admired the way the sun had started to warm up the atmosphere around them. Haru walked at his side, practically connected by the arm, as they both entered through the Plexiglas doors into the main compound building.

 

While he was gone, everyone had made an effort to keep the place up and running. The money management was top-notch, the place looked relatively clean, and Makoto was thankful – he had to have the assistance of a rather embarrassing cane most times due to his leg injuries, and walking without someone to support him would’ve made his job a lot harder.

 

His men had been informed he’d be coming back earlier that day, but that did not stop them from all causing an uproar the second Makoto’s shaky feet hit the tile. They were gathered all around, cheering on the two, mixing their cries of relief and appreciation into a loud, waning yell.

 

“Oyassan! Welcome home!” A member shouted and ran up to greet him. Makoto gave him a warm smile and patted his shoulder with his free hand before moving on to the next person who came to see him.

 

“Everyone, everyone!” He laughed, waving his hand in the air, “I’ve missed you too. Now get back to work!”

 

There was laughter and a collective “Yes, sir!” before a path was cleared for the two, allowing them to move.

 

“They really missed you, Makoto.” Haru grinned as they walked to the elevator, trying to push past the remaining ecstatic members. Makoto smiled to himself and tried to go a little faster – of course he was grateful for the attention, but really, the only attention he even wanted was Haru’s

 

Although he had been in the hospital for so long, there was never a moment when the two could be alone. There was always a nurse or a doctor in the room with them, and for the split second that it was just the two of them, Haru seemed nervous for some reason. He’d fidget and refuse to meet Makoto’s eyes until the doctor reentered.

 

_Maybe he thinks that this is his fault_ , Makoto thought as the elevator alerted them they were on the right floor. As the doors slid open, he briefly flashed back to the night that they were both taken, and he hesitated.

 

“Makoto?”

 

Haru had noticed, and was holding the elevator door to keep it from squishing them both. Makoto tore his eyes away from the door to look at him, and gave him a reassuring smile.

 

“ _They are gone. That will never happen again_.” He thought, and stepped forward into the hallway, Haru close at his side. He tried to ignore the memories that kept coming back to him, and instead tried focusing on Haru. As they drew closer to the door though, he felt Haru growing tenser with each step. By the time Makoto had shut the door behind them, Haru was stiff as a board, frozen in place.

 

He didn’t move when Makoto slipped off his shoes and padded into the longue, soaking in the familiar view of his flat. It looked tidier than he remembered (and also smelled significantly better), and he turned to him to ask.

 

“Haru, did you clean-“

 

Makoto’s words died away when he saw him. Somehow, he had managed to strip down to only his boxers and shirt, and was currently standing a few feet behind Makoto, face flushed as red as a beet and watery eyes trained at the ground.

 

“…I need to tell you something.” Haru murmured, fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. Makoto could feel his own face begin to heat up as he put all his will into keeping his eyes focused _waist up_.

 

“And to tell me, you… had to take your clothes of?” He choked, bringing a hand up to his mouth in order to cover his trembling lips. There was no way in hell this was happening. He didn’t think his heart could take this.

 

Haru’s blush deepened and he pouted, fisting his hands in his shirt before answering. The words barely were even a whisper, and he said them so fast it was impossible for Makoto to hear.

 

“Sorry…What?”

 

Makoto was _burning_ at this point, and was pretty sure he’d faint if something didn’t happen soon. Haru sighed shakily before looking up and meeting Makoto’s eyes with his own.

 

“I never got to tell you at the hospital, but… Makoto, I…” he bit his lips, eyes wavering for a split second.

 

“…I love you.”

 

Makoto could practically feel his soul leaving his body. All he could do was stand there, wide eyed and unable to speak. Haru burned under his gaze, shifting nervously on his feet.

 

“I’m sorry, what?” Makoto’s voice cracked, sending it an octave higher than intended. This couldn’t be real. After everything that they’d gone through, Haru had _feelings for him too_?

 

“I said I love you, you idiot.” Haru groaned, walking forward with quick steps until he collided with Makoto’s torso, and wrapped his arms delicately around the other man’s body. “Somewhere along the line, I fell in love with you. I don’t know exactly where, but-“

 

Those were the last words to leave Haru’s mouth before they were sealed by Makoto’s, swallowing up whatever else he had to say in a searing kiss. Haru faltered, and stumbled back, but Makoto caught him by the waist and pressed him flush against his chest, leaving no room for air.

 

“Makoto-“ Haru began, breathless, but Makoto once again caught his lips with his own, sucking gently on his lower lips until Haru opened his mouth, allowing their tongues to reunite. He clung to Makoto’s shirt, whining into his mouth as Makoto’s hands stroked his back, lovingly, _tenderly_ , and Haru couldn’t get enough.

 

“I love you too,” Makoto mumbled as their lips separated, and rested his forehead against Haru’s, “God, I love you too.”

 

Haru felt something warm brush his cheek, and he flickered his eyes up to meet Makoto’s; a small gasp escaped his lips when he saw tears flowing from his eyes, the jade color practically glowing.

 

“Makoto…?” Haru whispered, drawing back a bit to try and ask him what was wrong, but he was immediately pulled back, face buried in Makoto’s shaky shoulder.

 

“Haru” Makoto whimpered, and squeezed him tighter, “don’t move, stay here.”

 

Makoto’s chest felt like it would burst at any given moment, and the only way to keep it from exploding was to hold Haru close. His heart beat so hard that it _hurt_ , but in a way that was almost too happy for mere words to express.

 

“Makoto, I,” Haru’s muffled voice was quiet, “…want you.”

 

The warmth in his chest was suddenly accompanied by a warmth in his lower gut, and he bit his lip in effort not to whimper. With a final squeeze, Makoto let go of Haru and in turn lifted him up into his arms, earning a surprised yelp.

 

“M-Makoto! You’re still hurt-“ Haru stumbled, trying to push away from him, but he just laughed and began walking to the bedroom.

 

“I’ve missed you, Haru.” He said, placing him down on the bed and nuzzling into his neck, breathing in his scent.

 

Haru gave an airy laugh and brought up a hand to card his fingers through Makoto’s hair.

 

“I’ve missed you, too.”

 

Makoto’s hands were delicate as they removed Haru’s shirt, tracing the skin he could remember so clearly now. He planted soft, open mouth kisses along his ribs as his hands worked his pants down, and earning appreciative mewls from Haru’s parted lips.

 

They took everything slow – partly because it hurt Makoto to move to fast, and partly because of how much time they spent just _touching_ – but eventually skin touched skin as Makoto entered Haru with a low moan, having to stop halfway because _God_ , he had missed this. Haru cried out _More!_ and dug his nails into his tender back, prompting Makoto to move.

 

His hands felt like fire across his chest, burning slow and deep and simmering in a kind of heat that leaves you breathless. The kisses were slow, tender, and whispers of mindless praise were passed from one mouth to another as their tongues battles in a never-ending dance. Sweat stained the pillow case where they locked their hands together, and hot breathed moans filled the air around them.

 

“ _Makoto!_ ” Haru cried, raising his hips up further so the other man could thrust directly into his sweet spot. Makoto’s hips moved in a slow, sweet motion that sent Haru reeling. He mouthed at Haru’s sweaty neck, letting his tongue linger and lap at the beads of sweat that dripped down his jawline.

 

Each moment increased the flame in their stomachs, and soon Haru was crying out Makoto’s name, clinging onto his back for dear life as he came, covering their stomachs. Makoto followed soon after, completely immersing himself in Haru before letting his name hiss past his lips.

 

It was too hot for covers, but after they were clean, the lay together in bed, a thin sheet covering their naked bodies. Makoto wrapped Haru in his arms, laying his head against his chest, and tracing circles in his back. Haru made sure to be careful of Makoto’s leg as he curled up, allowing himself to become cocooned.

 

The afterglow was almost as good as the sex – it was silent, yet in a good sort of way. They listened to each other’s breaths and heartbeats as the sun gradually sank lower through the window. Finally, after a long while, Makoto spoke.

 

“I’m stepping down.”

 

Haru jerked back, and stared up at him. He was smiling, albeit he could not hide the traces of sadness that lingered in his eyes.

 

“What do you mean, stepping down?” Haru countered, propping himself up on an elbow. Makoto gave a small sigh and rolled onto his back, so he was staring up at the ceiling.

 

“This group means a lot to me. I love my men and all, but… I’m done living this kind of life.” He said, curling his hands against his chest, “I don’t want to put you in danger anymore.”

 

Haru bit his lip. “What’s going to happen to them? This group, I mean.”

 

Makoto turned his head and smiled at him. “There’s already someone who is ready to take over- not Kisumi!” He added quickly when Haru’s face darkened, “and I’ve talked a bit with them. I just… need to make it final, and I wanted to tell you.”

 

Haru pursed his lips, and rolled onto his back next to Makoto. “What’ll do, then? Work at a grocery store?” He sniggered, earning a lighthearted shoulder nudge.

 

“I’m kidding. I’ll support whatever decision you make as long as you keep me with you.”

 

Makoto laughed, and turned to bury his face in Haru’s damp hair.

 

“I’ll always keep you with me.” He murmured, closing his eyes.

 

“Promise?”

 

“Promise.”

 

**

 

 

Haru stood with his arms on the railing, basking in the warm glow of the setting sun. It was summer now, which meant the breeze carried from the sea was saltier, richer than in the winter months. He could hear the gulls off in the distance, their calls mingling with the sound of the soft waves.

 

He took a deep breath, inhaling the salty air, when he heard the veranda door slide open behind him. Haru no longer felt the need to jump at every sound, or turn his head to every voice, so when he heard the bare feet against the wooden patio, he didn’t turn – rather, he kept on staring out into the ocean, watching the orange invade the deep blue waters.

 

“What are you doing?” A voice came from behind him as he felt a pair of warm arms wrap around his waist, pulling him snug against a chest.

 

“Nothin’. Lookin’ at the ocean.”

 

There was a puff of air – a small laugh, as Haru felt a nose begin to bury in his hair, a content hum vibrating down his neck.

 

“Makoto, what are _you_ doing?”

 

“Nothin,” Makoto mocked, squeezing him a little tighter, “lookin’ at the ocean with you.”

 

Haru rolled his eyes, but couldn’t fight the smile off of his lips. They stood there, watching the sun sink lower into the water, before a thought caught Haru’s attention.

 

“How’s Sera doing? With the group, and all?”

 

Makoto gave a deep sigh and tilted his head to the side, burying his cheek in Haru’s dark locks.

 

“Good, from what Nagisa’s told me. He’s cleaned up Iwatobi pretty nice.” He paused, sighing a little. “I think I made a good choice.”

 

Haru gave a hum of agreement and tilted his head to the side, turning it so he could feel Makoto’s breath skim his warm cheek.

 

“You don’t regret leaving?” He asked quietly, looking out at the shimmering water. Makoto was silent, as if he were thinking long and hard about it.

 

“…No, of course I don’t.”

 

“And you don’t regret _kidnapping_ me?” Haru teased, nudging him playfully in the chest. He laughed, the sound like loud chiming bells – a sound Haru had only recently begun to hear.

 

“No way. I’d do it all over again for you, Haru.”

 

His teasing backfired horribly; Haru’s cheeks felt as if they were on fire, and it wasn’t from the sunburn.

 

“I don’t regret it either,” he mumbled, and began to turn his head away, but Makoto caught his chin with his hand, his fingers feather light against his skin. He tilted his head up so that his eyes were in plain view, green and shimmering with a sort of light that one only saw once in a lifetime. The green of his eyes disappeared however, when he was pulled into a soft, gentle kiss, their lips coming together like two puzzle pieces finally being connected.

 

Makoto drew Haru back for another kiss, this time with more fire than before, nibbling his bottom lip in an eager sort of way – Haru was distracted however, when he felt something soft rub up against his leg.

 

“Makoto, hold on-“ Haru said, leaning away, and looked down to see a white, fluffy body with jade eyes staring back up at him. It gave a quiet _mew_ and rubbed his leg again, purring loudly. “She wants to eat.”

 

Makoto looked crestfallen, but as Haru knew, he could not say no to their cat. Reluctantly, he let Haru go, but not before planting a quick kiss on his head. Haru stood there, ears burning as he watched Makoto lead the cat inside, happily calling its name.

 

He turned around back to the ocean, just as the sun dipped below the water, extinguishing the smoldering orange and dimming the sky to a darker blue – but it didn’t bother Haru too much. He knew the sun would rise again and begin a new day, and he knew everything would be okay.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and... that's that!  
> it almost doesn't feel real - this was my first real fanfiction that i 'published', and let me just say i did _not_ expect it to get this many views or kudos. like, really. i have met so many wonderful people writing this and learned a lot about my own writing. i want to thank [my beta akiko](http://akikolikesstuff.tumblr.com/) for pushing me to write and fixing all of my dumb mistakes. this story probably wouldn't have finished without her.  
>  i also want to thank all of you, the readers, because i honestly didn't think people would read this. every kudos made my heart flutter and i loved reading and replying to your comments, it means a lot to me. so, **thank you**  
>  i'm gonna finish by saying : look out for my upcoming fics! i will definitely be writing more (there's already a lot in the works) and this is definitely not the end. thank you again, and thanks for reading!  
> [my tumblr](http://otomeflakes.tumblr.com//)


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